Daughter of Black: year 4
by AuroraStarBlack
Summary: Sequel to Daughter of Black. Read that first. Aurora Black is ready for her forth year at Hogwarts. Will it be like last year, will she keep her friends? Will there be love in the air? Read and find out!
1. Summer

**A/N: Here is the next story of the life of Aurora Black. I hope you enjoy it!**

**Chapter 1: Summer**

"Wake up, Aurora!" a voice yelled in my ear.

I muttered something unintelligent and turned the other way. I was having a wonderful dream and nobody in his right mind should interrupt it! I mean it.

"Come on, Aurora, wake up," the voice yelled again.

I put my head under the blankets. Leave, leave, leave, … I chanted in my head. But of course, the universe hates me and the voice stays. And then, my blanket is gone. Chills were running down my spine. Somebody stole my blanket. I tried to reach for it at my feet but I couldn't find it. In the attempt to get to cold away, I rolled up.

The voice was gone, the cold a little, so I went back to my wonderful dream. Now , where was I?

SPLASH!

I shot right up in my bed, dripping. I was wet, cold, my dream was gone, so who did this was going to pay. I heard laughter by my door and turned that way. My eyes found the blue eyes of my uncle.

"What the hell!" I screamed.

"language, Aurora!" he said with a hint of laughter, "I couldn't wake you up, so this was my last resort."

"There are tons of other ways! But I'm not going to tell you, I'm going to kill you! Why? I was having a fantastic dream and you ruined it! You better have a good reason for this! I'm freezing and it's summer. Why did you wake me up this early?" I said glaring.

"Like I said, I couldn't wake you up, and put more clothes on, then you wouldn't be freezing. Now get ready, you have to be ready in one hour! The Weasleys are expecting you. Or has this slipped your mind?" he said in a calm way but I could see he was trying not to laugh.

"Fine, but you still could have woke me up in another way!" I mumbled.

"Now where's the fun in that?" he asked me smirking.

"Having dad back in our lives, is a very bad idea! You are worse than you were before!" I said to him.

He just grinned at me, "It's the wolf in me, it's close to the full moon."

"Fine, whatever, just get out so I can shower and change."

"But you already had your shower."

"Argh, OUT NOW!" I yelled.

He laughed and walked out of my room.

I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. I took a quick shower and went to stand in front of the mirror. Last year, my hair was red but it was turning darker. It was now dark red and I liked it better like this. My hair was shorter now, but not too short. Before it reached the middle of my back, now it was a little higher, it was till long. I also got myself a fringe. It made me look older. I'm 14 years old now, it was time for a change. I braided my hair sideways and went to put on my clothes. I had lay them out yesterday, so I didn't had to look for an outfit now. A jeans skirt, a green top and a black cardigan.

I looked around the bathroom to see if I haven't forgotten anything. Satisfied, I walked to my room and did the same thing. I had everything packed yesterday. My trunk was ready for another school year. But first I was going to spend the rest of the summer at the Weasleys. Their son, Ron, was one of my best friends. His dad got tickets for the Quidditch Final and he invited me along. Uncle Moony said I could go, he was going to help dad. Did I mention my dad was a mass murderer? Well, he really didn't kill anybody, but they didn't believe me when I said this. And with they, I mean the Ministry.

I finally got my father back at the end of last year, but our plans were ruined and now he's on the run. Again. I really hoped we could be together for now on, but it wasn't meant to be. Ok, Aurora, stop thinking about that! In a few minutes, I was going to be at the Weasleys and it was going to be so much fun! Spending time with my best friends.

There was a knock on my door and uncle Moony came in my room.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes."

He took my trunk and we walked to the fireplace. He lit a fire, threw in some Floo powder, places my trunk in the fireplace and turned to me. He took me in a hug.

"I'm going to miss you! It's going to be so quit without you here. I hope you have fun! And be careful!"

"I know, I'm going to miss you to! Tell dad I love him and I miss him. Oh, I love you to, uncle Moony! I promise I'll be careful and I promise I will behave." I said.

We let go and I stepped into the fireplace.

"The Burrow!" I shouted and the last thing I saw, were the blue eyes of my uncle Moony.

Thank God, I'm used to travel like this, otherwise I would fall down. With grace, I walked out of the fireplace and looked around. There were a lot of red hairs here. I felled right at home. It felt cozy even with all these people here.

"Aurora, you made it!" somebody said.

I turned the voice and smiled.

"Of course, Ron, wouldn't miss it for the world!"

I walked to him and hugged him. Just like last time, he hugged me back after he got over the shock.

"Fair lady,"

"It has been,"

"To long!"

I turned to the twins and laughed.

"Fred, George, it's good to see you two again!" I walked to them and give them both a kiss on the cheek.

"Aurora, I like to you to meet the rest of the family," Ron said and he pointed to everyone when he spoke out their names.

"This is Bill, the oldest." Bill waved and I smiled back. He was cool. He looked like a really relaxed guy. He was tall, with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang dangling from it. Bill's clothes would not have looked out of place at a rock concert, except that I recognized his boots to be made, not of leather, but of dragon hide.

"This is Charlie, works with Dragons." Charlie gave me a dazzling smile and I winked back. He laughed. Charlie was really nice looking, too bad he was older than me. Charlie was built like the twins, shorter and stockier than Percy and Ron, who were both long and lanky. He had a broad, good-natured face, which was weather-beaten and so freckly that he looked almost tanned; his arms were muscular, and one of them had a large, shiny burn on it.

"You know the rest already." Ron finished.

"Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, for inviting me and letting me stay the rest of the summer. I promise I will be on my best behavior." I said to them.

"It was nothing dear, please sit. I will take you trunk upstairs and you can wait here." Mrs. Weasley said.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Boys, it's time to get Harry." Mr. Weasley said.

Ron, Fred and George went to stand next to Mr. Weasley. One by one they left.

"So you are Aurora Black," Bill said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, got a problem with that?" I said back, glaring.

"No, not at all. Ron likes you, the twins like you. So far, you haven't given me a reason to hate you so…" Charlie said.

"I could say the same things about you!" I said.

"Let's get to know eachother and then we can decided on who's bad and who's good." Bill said.

I smirked. "Are you sure you would like to get to know me? Maybe you don't like what you will find out." I winked.

They laughed. "We'll take our chances." Charlie said.

I smiled and took place at the table. They were staring at me and it was creeping me out.

"Is Ginny home?" I asked, just to keep busy.

"Yes, she's upstairs." Bill answered.

"And Percy?"

"He's upstairs, working on a report for the Ministry." Charlie said.

"He's working there? Really? Well better him than me. Don't think I would be welcome there." I said.

Charlie was about to answer when the fireplace lit up and Fred came out. He was grinning.

"Ok, what have you done?" Bill asked.

"Why do you think I did anything?" he asked sweetly.

"The look on your face Fred," I said to him.

"How do you know I'm Fred, maybe I'm George," he said to me.

"Really, are we going to there again?" I smirked back.

Then George and a trunk showed up. He was grinning to.

"Now we know you really did something!" Charlie said.

"Don't know what you're talking about." George said.

"Offcourse not," I said back.

Ron came out of the fireplace and he was grinning to.

"What was that?" he asked the twins.

"Ton-Tongue Toffee," said Fred brightly. "George and I invented them."

Ron laughed. "Brilliant."

They went to sit at the table. we all looked at the fireplace waiting for Harry to show up.

Harry showed up, almost falling to his face. Fred stoop up and went to him.

"Did he eat it?" said Fred excitedly, holding out a hand to pull Harry to his feet.

"Yeah," said Harry, straightening up. "What was it?"

"Ton-Tongue Toffee," said Fred brightly. "George and I invented them, and we've been looking for someone to test them on all summer…"

The tiny kitchen exploded with laughter; Harry looked around.

"How're you doing, Harry?" Charlie said.

Bill got to his feet, smiling, and also shook Harry's hand.

I stood up and went to give him a hug.

"I missed you, Harry." I said in his ear.

"I missed you to, Aurora." He said back.

We let go and smiled.

Before any of us could say anything else, there was a faint popping noise, and Mr. Weasley appeared out of thin air at George's shoulder. He was looking angry.

"That wasn't funny Fred!" he shouted. "What on earth did you give that Muggle boy?"

"I didn't give him anything," said Fred, with another evil grin. "I just dropped it… It was his fault he went and ate it, I never told him to."

"You dropped it on purpose!" roared Mr. Weasley. "You knew he'd eat it, you knew he was on a diet -"

"How big did his tongue get?" George asked eagerly.

"It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!"

Harry, the Weasleys and me roared with laughter again.

"It isn't funny!" Mr. Weasley shouted. "That sort of behavior seriously undermines wizard-Muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons."

"We didn't give it to him because he's a Muggle!" said Fred indignantly.

"No, we gave it to him because he's a great bullying git," said George. "Isn't he, Harry?"

"Yeah, he is, Mr. Weasley," said Harry earnestly.

"That's not the point!" raged Mr. Weasley. "You wait until I tell your mother -"

"Tell me what?" said a voice behind us.

Mrs. Weasley had just entered the kitchen. Her eyes were presently narrowed with suspicion.

"Oh hello, Harry, dear," she said, spotting him and smiling. Then her eyes snapped back to her husband. "Tell me what, Arthur?"

Mr. Weasley hesitated. I could tell that, however angry he was with Fred and George, he hadn't really intended to tell Mrs. Weasley what had happened. There was a silence, while Mr. Weasley eyed his wife nervously. Then two girls appeared in the kitchen doorway behind Mrs. Weasley. One, with very bushy brown hair and a kind smile, was Harry's, Ron's and my best friend, Hermione Granger. The other, who was small and red-haired, was Ron's younger sister, Ginny.

Both of them smiled at Harry, who grinned back, which made Ginny go scarlet. Then they turned to me and Hermione gives me a wide smile, while Ginny just nods.

"Tell me what, Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley repeated, in a dangerous sort of voice.

"It's nothing, Molly," mumbled Mr. Weasley, "Fred and George just - but I've had words with them -"

"What have they done this time?" said Mrs. Weasley. "If it's got anything to do with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes -"

"Why don't you show Harry where he's sleeping, Ron?" said Hermione from the doorway.

"He knows where he's sleeping," said Ron, "in my room, he slept there last -"

"Then show Aurora where's she sleeping," said Hermione pointedly.

"Oh," said Ron, cottoning on. "Right."

"Yeah, we'll come too," said George.

"You stay where you are!" snarled Mrs. Weasley.

Harry, Ron and me edged out of the kitchen, and we, Hermione, and Ginny set off along the narrow hallway and up the rickety staircase that zigzagged through the house to the upper stories.

"What are Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?" Harry asked as they climbed.

Ron and Ginny both laughed, although Hermione didn't.

"Mum found this stack of order forms when she was cleaning Fred and George's room," said Ron quietly. "Great long price lists for stuff they've invented. Joke stuff, you know. Fake wands and trick sweets, loads of stuff. It was brilliant, I never knew they'd been inventing all that…"

"We've been hearing explosions out of their room for ages, but we never thought they were actually making things," said Ginny. "We thought they just liked the noise."

"Only, most of the stuff - well, all of it, really - was a bit dangerous," said Ron, "and, you know, they were planning to sell it at Hogwarts to make some money, and Mum went mad at them. Told them they weren't allowed to make any more of it, and burned all the order forms… She's furious at them anyway. They didn't get as many O.W.L.s as she expected."

O.W.L.s were Ordinary Wizarding Levels, the examinations Hogwarts students took at the age of fifteen.

"And then there was this big row," Ginny said, "because Mum wants them to go into the Ministry of Magic like Dad, and they told her all they want to do is open a joke shop."

Just then a door on the second landing opened, and a face poked out wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a very annoyed expression.

"Hi, Percy," said Harry.

"Hello," I said.

"Oh hello, Harry, Black" said Percy. "I was wondering who was making all the noise. I'm trying to work in here, you know I've got a report to finish for the office – and it's rather difficult to concentrate when people keep thundering up and down the stairs."

I raised my eyebrows. Black, really. How rude!

"We're not thundering, "said Ron irritably. "We're walking. Sorry if we've disturbed the top-secret workings of the Ministry of Magic."

"What are you working on?" said Harry.

"A report for the Department of International Magical Cooperation," said Percy smugly. "We're trying to standardize cauldron thickness. Some of these foreign imports are just a shade too thin - leakages have been increasing at a rate of almost three percent a year -"

"That'll change the world, that report will," said Ron. "Front page of the Daily Prophet, I expect, cauldron leaks."

Percy went slightly pink.

"You might sneer, Ron," he said heatedly, "but unless some sort of international law is imposed we might well find the market flooded with flimsy, shallow bottomed products that seriously endanger -"

"Yeah, yeah, all right," said Ron, and he started off upstairs again. Percy slammed his bedroom door shut. As Harry, Hermione, Ginny and me followed Ron up three more flights of stairs, shouts from the kitchen below echoed up to them. It sounded as though Mr. Weasley had told Mrs. Weasley about the toffees. The room at the top of the house was where Ron and Harry sleep: posters of Ron's favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, were whirling and waving on the walls and sloping ceiling, and afish tank on the windowsill contained one extremely large frog. Ron's old rat, Scabbers, was here no more, but instead there was the tiny gray owl that had delivered Ron's letter to me to tell me I was invited. It was hopping up and down in a small cage and twittering madly.

"Shut up, Pig," said Ron, edging his way between two of the four beds that had been squeezed into the room. "Fred and George are in here with us, because Bill and Charlie are in their room," he told us. "Percy gets to keep his room all to himself because he's got to work."

"Er - why are you calling that owl Pig?" Harry asked Ron.

"Because he's being stupid," said Ginny, "Its proper name is Pigwidgeon."

"Yeah, and that's not a stupid name at all," said Ron sarcastically. "Ginny named him," he explained to us. "She reckons it's sweet. And I tried to change it, but it was too late, he won't answer to anything else. So now he's Pig. I've got to keep him up here because he annoys Errol and Hermes. He annoys me too, come to that."

Pigwidgeon zoomed happily around his cage, hooting shrilly. I knew Ron well enough to take him seriously. He had moaned continually about his old rat, Scabbers, but had been most upset when Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, appeared to have eaten him.

"Where's Crookshanks?" I asked Hermione now.

"Out in the garden, I expect," she said. "He likes chasing gnomes. He's never seen any before."

"Percy's enjoying work, then?" said Harry, sitting down on one of the beds and watching the Chudley Cannons zooming in and out of the posters on the ceiling. I went to sit next to him.

"Enjoying it?" said Ron darkly. "I don't reckon he'd come home if Dad didn't make him. He's obsessed. Just don't get him onto the subject of his boss. According to Mr. Crouch… as I was saying to Mr. Crouch… Mr. Crouch is of the opinion… Mr. Crouch was telling me… They'll be announcing their engagement any day now."

"Have you had a good summer, Harry?" said Hermione. "Did you get our food parcels and everything?"

"Yeah, thanks a lot," said Harry. "They saved my life, those cakes."

"And have you heard from -?" Ron began, but at a look from me he fell silent.

Iknew Ron had been about to ask about dad. Ron and Hermione had been so deeply involved in helping dad escape from the Ministry of Magic that they were almost as concerned about dad as Harry and I were.

However, discussing him in front of Ginny was a bad idea. Nobody but ourselves and Professor Dumbledore knew about how dadhad escaped, or believed in his innocence.

"I think they've stopped arguing," said Hermione, to cover the awkward moment, because Ginny was looking curiously from Ron to Harry to me. "Shall we go down and help your mum with dinner?"

"Yeah, all right," said Ron.

"Eum, where do I sleep?" I asked.

"Oh, right, you sleep with Ginny and Hermione, one floor down." Ron said.

"Oh, ok."

We left Ron's room and went back downstairs to find Mrs. Weasley alone in the kitchen, looking extremely bad-tempered.

"We're eating out in the garden," she said when we came in. "There's just not room for twelf people in here. Could you take the plates outside, girls? Aurora, can you take the glasses? Bill and Charlie are setting up the tables. Knives and forks, please, you two," she said to Ron and Harry, pointing her wand a little more vigorously than she had intended at a pile of potatoes in the sink, which shot out of their skins so fast that they ricocheted off the walls and ceiling.

"Oh for heaven's sake," she snapped, now directing her wand at a dustpan, which hopped off the sideboard and started skating across the floor, scooping up the potatoes. "Those two!" she burst out savagely, now pulling pots and pans out of a cupboard, and I knew she meant Fred and George. "I don't know what's going to happen to them, I really don't. No ambition, unless you count making as much trouble as they possibly can…"

Mrs. Weasley slammed a large copper saucepan down on the kitchen table and began to wave her wand around inside it. A creamy sauce poured from the wand tip as she stirred.

"It's not as though they haven't got brains," she continued irritably, taking the saucepan over to the stove and lighting it with a further poke of her wand, "but they're wasting them, and unless they pull themselves together soon, they'll be in real trouble. I've had more owls from Hogwarts about them than the rest put together. If they carry on the way they're going, they'll end up in front of the Improper Use of Magic Office."

Mrs. Weasley jabbed her wand at the cutlery drawer, which shot open. Harry, Ron and I jumped out of the way as several knives soared out of it, flew across the kitchen, and began chopping the potatoes, which had just been tipped back into the sink by the dustpan.

"I don't know where we went wrong with them," said Mrs. Weasley, putting down her wand and starting to pull out still more saucepans. "It's been the same for years, one thing after another, and they won't listen to - OH NOT AGAIN!"

She had picked up her wand from the table, and it had emitted a loud squeak and turned into a giant rubber mouse. "One of their fake wands again!" she shouted. "How many times have I told them not to leave them lying around?"

She grabbed her real wand and turned around to find that the sauce on the stove was smoking.

"C'mon," Ron said hurriedly, showing me were the glasses were and he and Harry seized a handful of cutlery from the open drawer, "let's go and help Bill and Charlie."

We left Mrs. Weasley and headed out the back door into the yard.

We had only gone a few paces when Hermione's bandy-legged ginger cat, Crookshanks, came pelting out of the garden, bottle-brush tail held high in the air, chasing what looked like a muddy potato on legs. I recognized it instantly as a gnome. Barely ten inches high, its horny little feet pattered very fast as it sprinted across the yard and dived headlong into one of the Wellington boots that lay scattered around the door. I could hear the gnome giggling madly as Crookshanks inserted a paw into the boot, trying to reach it. Meanwhile, a very loud crashing noise was coming from the other side of the house. The source of the commotion was revealed as we entered the garden, and saw that Bill and Charlie both had their wands out, and were making two battered old tables fly high above the lawn, smashing into each other, each attempting to knock the other's out of the air. Fred and George were cheering, Ginny was laughing, and Hermione was hovering near the hedge, apparently torn between amusement and anxiety. Bill's table caught Charlie's with a huge bang and knocked one of its legs off. There was a clatter from overhead, and they all looked up to see Percy's head poking out of a window on the second floor.

"Will you keep it down?" he bellowed.

"Sorry, Perce," said Bill, grinning. "How're the cauldron bottoms coming on?"

"Very badly," said Percy peevishly, and he slammed the window shut. Chuckling, Bill and Charlie directed the tables safely onto the grass, end to end, and then, with a flick of his wand, Bill reattached the table leg and conjured tablecloths from nowhere.

By seven o'clock, the two tables were groaning under dishes and dishes of Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking, and the nine Weasleys, Harry, Hermione and me were settling ourselves down to eat beneath a clear, deep-blue sky. To somebody who had been living with only one other person, this was paradise, and at first, Ilistened rather than talked as I helped myself to chicken, boiled potatoes, and salad. At the far end of the table, Percy was telling his father all about his report on cauldron bottoms.

"I've told Mr. Crouch that I'll have it ready by Tuesday," Percy was saying pompously. "That's a bit sooner than he expected it, but I like to keep on top of things. I think he'll be grateful I've done it in good time, I mean, it's extremely busy in our department just now, what with all the arrangements for the World Cup. We're just not getting the support we need from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Ludo Bagman -"

"I like Ludo," said Mr. Weasley mildly. "He was the one who got us such good tickets for the Cup. I did him a bit of a favor: His brother, Otto, got into a spot of trouble - a lawnmower with unnatural powers - I smoothed the whole thing over."

"Oh Bagman's likable enough, of course," said Percy dismissively, "but how he ever got to be Head of Department… when I compare him to Mr. Crouch! I can't see Mr. Crouch losing a member of our department and not trying to find out what's happened to them. You realize Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a month now? Went on holiday to Albania and never came back?"

"Yes, I was asking Ludo about that," said Mr. Weasley, frowning. "He says Bertha's gotten lost plenty of times before now - though must say, if it was someone in my department, I'd be worried…"

"Oh Bertha's hopeless, all right," said Percy. "I hear she's been shunted from department to department for years, much more trouble than she's worth… but all the same, Bagman ought to be trying to find her. Mr. Crouch has been taking a personal interest, she worked in our department at one time, you know, and I think Mr. Crouch was quite fond of her - but Bagman just keeps laughing and saying she probably misread the map and ended up in Australia instead of Albania. However" - Percy heaved an impressive sigh and took a deep swig of elderflower wine - "we've got quite enough on our plates at the Department of International Magical Cooperation without trying to find members of other departments too. As you know, we've got another big event to organize right after the World Cup."

Percy cleared his throat significantly and looked down toward the end of the table where Harry, Ron, Hermione and me were sitting. "You know the one I'm talking about, Father." He raised his voice slightly. "The top-secret one."

Ron rolled his eyes and muttered to Harry, Hermione and me, "He's been trying to get us to ask what that event is ever since he started work. Probably an exhibition of thick-bottomed cauldrons."

In the middle of the table, Mrs. Weasley was arguing with Bill about his earring, which seemed to be a recent acquisition.

"… with a horrible great fang on it. Really, Bill, what do they say at the bank?"

"Mum, no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress as long as I bring home plenty of treasure," said Bill patiently.

"And your hair's getting silly, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, fingering her wand lovingly." I wish you'd let me give it a trim…"

"I like it," said Ginny, who was sitting beside Bill. "You're so old-fashioned, Mum. Anyway, it's nowhere near as long as Professor Dumbledore's…"

Next to Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, and Charlie were all talking spiritedly about the World Cup.

"It's got to be Ireland," said Charlie thickly, through a mouthful of potato. "They flattened Peru in the semifinals."

"Bulgaria has got Viktor Krum, though," said Fred.

"Krum's one decent player, Ireland has got seven," said Charlie shortly. "I wish England had got through. That was embarrassing, that was."

"What happened?" said Harry eagerly. He was a big fan of Quidditch.

"Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten," said Charlie gloomily.

"Shocking performance. And Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland was slaughtered by Luxembourg."

Mr. Weasley conjured up candles to light the darkening garden before we had our homemade strawberry ice cream, and by the time we had finished, moths were fluttering low over the table, and the warm air was perfumed with the smells of grass and honeysuckle. I was feeling extremely well fed and at peace with the world as I watched several gnomes sprinting through the rosebushes, laughing madly and closely pursued by Crookshanks.

Ron looked carefully up the table to check that the rest of the family were all busy talking, then he said very quietly to Harry, "So - have you heard from Sirius lately?"

Hermione looked around, listening closely. I leaned in as well.

"Yeah," said Harry softly, "twice. He sounds okay. I wrote to him yesterday. He might write back while I'm here."

"I heard him to a few times. Looks like his having the time of his live, the way his writing. He can't tell where he is, but uncle Moony is going to look for him and for save places. He also send me my present. A Firebolt. We have to go flying together someday, Harry."

"I didn't know you could fly," Harry said to me.

"Sure, dad was on the team to, he was beater," I said.

"Okay, it's a deal!" Harry said smiling. I smiled back at him. He had a beautiful smile.

"Look at the time," Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, checking her wristwatch. "You really should be in bed, the whole lot of you you'll be up at the crack of dawn to get to the Cup. Harry, Aurora, if you leave your school lists out, I'll get your things for you tomorrow in Diagon Alley. I'm getting everyone else's. There might not be time after the World Cup, the match went on for five days last time."

"Wow - hope it does this time!" said Harry enthusiastically.

"Well, I certainly don't," said Percy sanctimoniously. "I shudder to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days."

"Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?" said Fred.

"That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway!" said Percy, going very red in the face. "It was nothing personal!"

"It was," Fred whispered to me as we got up from the table. "We sent it."

**A/N: The first chapter is finished. Tell me what you think!**


	2. The Portkey

**A/N: I don't own anything.**

**Thanks for the reviews. It's nice to know you like it!**

**Chapter 2: The Portkey**

I felt as though I had barely lain down too sleep in Ginny's room when I was being shaken awake by Mrs. Weasley. Ginny decided we should talk all night. She never had a sleepover before and Hermione and me were the first victims. Around 2 o'clock Hermione and me convinced her to go to sleep.

"Time to go, Aurora, dear," she whispered, moving away to wake Ginny.

I stretched my arms, rubbed my eyes and sat up. It was still dark outside. Ginny muttered indistinctly as her mother roused her. At the foot of my mattress I saw Hermione sitting up, yawning.

"'S' time already?" said Ginny groggily.

I let myself fall into bed again. It was way too early. I got up and get dressed. I saw the others still lying in bed, so I went downstairs already. While going downstairs, I ran into Harry, Ron and the twins. we said goodmorning.

Mrs. Weasley was stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove, while Mr. Weasley was sitting at the table, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets. He looked up as the boys and me entered and spread his arms so that we could see his clothes more clearly. He was wearing what appeared to be a golfing sweater and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt.

"What d'you think?" he asked anxiously. "We're supposed to go incognito - do I look like a Muggle, Harry?"

"Yeah," said Harry, smiling, "very good."

"Where're Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?" said George, failing to stifle a huge yawn.

"Well, they're Apparating, aren't they?" said Mrs. Weasley, heaving the large pot over to the table and starting to ladle porridge into bowls. "So they can have a bit of a lie-in."

I knew that Apparating meant disappearing from one place and reappearing almost instantly in another. I did it a few times with uncle Moony and I didn't like it.

"So they're still in bed?" said Fred grumpily, pulling his bowl of porridge toward him. "Why can't we Apparate too?"

"Because you're not of age and you haven't passed your test," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "And where have those girls got to?"

She bustled out of the kitchen and we heard her climbing the stairs.

"You have to pass a test to Apparate?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes," said Mr. Weasley, tucking the tickets safely into the back pocket of his jeans. "The Department of Magical Transportation had to fine a couple of people the other day for Apparating without a license. It's not easy, Apparition, and when it's not done property it can lead to nasty complications. This pair I'm talking about went and splinched themselves."

Everyone around the table except Harry winced.

"Er - splinched?" said Harry.

"They left half of themselves behind," said Mr. Weasley, now spooning large amounts of treacle onto his porridge. "So, of course, they were stuck. Couldn't move either way. Had to wait for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to sort them out. Meant a fair old bit of paperwork, I can tell you, what with the Muggles who spotted the body parts they'd left behind…"

"Were they okay?" he asked, startled.

"Oh yes," said Mr. Weasley matter-of-factly. "But they got a heavy fine, and I don't think they'll be trying it again in a hurry. You don't mess around with Apparition. There are plenty of adult wizards who don't bother with it. Prefer brooms - slower, but safer."

"But Bill and Charlie and Percy can all do it?"

"Charlie had to take the test twice," said Fred, grinning. "He failed the first time. Apparated five miles south of where he meant to, right on top of some poor old dear doing her shopping, remember?"

"Yes, well, he passed the second time," said Mrs. Weasley, marching back into the kitchen amid hearty sniggers.

"Percy only passed two weeks ago," said George. "He's been Apparating downstairs every morning since, just to prove he can."

There were footsteps down the passageway and Hermione and Ginny came into the kitchen, both looking pale and drowsy. Finally.

"Why do we have to be up so early?" Ginny said, rubbing her eyes and sitting down at the table.

"We've got a bit of a walk," said Mr. Weasley.

"Walk?" said Harry. "What, are we walking to the World Cup?"

"No, no, that's miles away," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "We only need to walk a short way. It's just that it's very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about how we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup…"

"George!" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, and we all jumped.

"What?" said George, in an innocent tone that deceived nobody.

"What is that in your pocket?"

"Nothing!"

"Don't you lie to me!"

Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at George's pocket and said, "Accio!"

Several small, brightly colored objects zoomed out of George's pocket; he made a grab for them but missed, and they sped right into Mrs. Weasley's outstretched hand.

"We told you to destroy them!" said Mrs. Weasley furiously, holding up what were unmistakably more Ton-Tongue Toffees. "We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!"

It was an unpleasant scene; the twins had evidently been trying to smuggle as many toffees out of the house as possible, and it was only by using her Summoning Charm that Mrs. Weasley managed to find them all.

"Accio! Accio! Accio!" she shouted, and toffees zoomed from all sorts of unlikely places, including the lining of George's jacket and the turn-ups of Fred's jeans.

"We spent six months developing those!" Fred shouted at his mother as she threw the toffees away.

"Oh a fine way to spend six months!" she shrieked. "No wonder you didn't get more O.W.L.s!"

All in all, the atmosphere was not very friendly as they took our departure. Mrs. Weasley was still glowering as she kissed Mr. Weasley on the cheek, though not nearly as much as the twins, who had each hoisted their rucksacks onto their backs and walked out without a word to her.

"Well, have a lovely time," said Mrs. Weasley, "and behave yourselves," she called after the twins' retreating backs, but they did not look back or answer.

"I'll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy along around midday," Mrs. Weasley said to Mr. Weasley, as he, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and me set off across the dark yard after Fred and George.

It was chilly and the moon was still out. Only a dull, greenish tinge along the horizon to our right showed that daybreak was drawing closer. I was walking beside Harry and he had a thoughtful look on his face. He speeded up and went to Mr. Weasley. I followed him.

"So how does everyone get there without all the Muggles noticing?" Harry asked.

"It's been a massive organizational problem," sighed Mr. Weasley. "The trouble is, about a hundred thousand wizards turn up at the World Cup, and of course, we just haven't got a magical site big enough to accommodate them all. There are places Muggles can't penetrate, but imagine trying to pack a hundred thousand wizards into Diagon Alley or platform nine and three-quarters. So we had to find a nice deserted moor, and set up as many anti-Muggle precautions as possible. The whole Ministry's been working on it for months. First, of course, we have to stagger the arrivals. People with cheaper tickets have to arrive two weeks beforehand. A limited number use Muggle transport, but we can't have too many clogging up their buses and trains - remember, wizards are coming from all over the world. Some Apparate, of course, but we have to set up safe points for them to appear, well away from Muggles. I believe there's a handy wood they're using as the Apparition point. For those who don't want to Apparate, or can't, we use Portkeys. They're objects that are used to transport wizards from one spot to another at a prearranged time. You can do large groups at a time if you need to. There have been two hundred Portkeys placed at strategic points around Britain, and the nearest one to us is up at the top of Stoatshead Hill, so that's where we're headed."

Mr. Weasley pointed ahead of us, where a large black mass rose beyond the village of Ottery St. Catchpole.

"What sort of objects are Portkeys?" said Harry curiously.

"Well, they can be anything," said Mr. Weasley. "Unobtrusive things, obviously, so Muggles don't go picking them up and playing with them… stuff they'll just think is litter…"

We trudged down the dark, dank lane toward the village, the silence broken only by their footsteps. The sky lightened very slowly as they made our way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to deepest blue. My hands and feet were freezing. Mr. Weasley kept checking his watch.

We didn't have breath to spare for talking as we began to climb Stoatshead Hill, stumbling occasionally in hidden rabbit holes, slipping on thick black tuffets of grass. Each breath I took was sharp in my chest and my legs were starting to seize up when, at last, my feet found level ground.

"Whew," panted Mr. Weasley, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sweater. "Well, we've made good time - we've got ten minutes."

Hermione came over the crest of the hill last, clutching a stitch in her side.

"Now we just need the Portkey," said Mr. Weasley, replacing his glasses and squinting around at the ground. "It won't be big… Come on…"

We spread out, searching. We had only been at it for a couple of minutes, however, when a shout rent the still air.

"Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it."

Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

"Amos!" said Mr. Weasley, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted. The rest of us followed.

Mr. Weasley was shaking hands with a ruddy-faced wizard with a scrubby brown beard, who was holding a moldy-looking old boot in his other hand.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," said Mr. Weasley. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

Cedric Diggory was an extremely handsome boy of around seventeen. He was Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff House Quidditch team at Hogwarts.

"Hi," said Cedric, looking around at us all. Everybody said hi back except Fred and George, who merely nodded. They had never quite forgiven Cedric for beating their team, Gryffindor, in the first Quidditch match of the previous year.

"Long walk, Arthur?" Cedric's father asked.

"Not too bad," said Mr. Weasley. "We live just on the other side of the village there. You?"

"Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition test. Still… not complaining… Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sackful of Galleons - and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy…" Amos Diggory peered good-naturedly around at the three Weasley boys, Harry, Hermione, Ginny and me. "All these yours, Arthur?"

"Oh no, only the redheads," said Mr. Weasley, pointing out his children. "This is Hermione, friend of Ron's - and Harry, another friend -"

"Merlin's beard," said Amos Diggory, his eyes widening. "Harry? Harry Potter?"

"Er - yeah," said Harry.

"Ced's talked about you, of course," said Amos Diggory. "Told us all about playing against you last year… I said to him, I said - Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will… You beat Harry Potter!"

Fred and George were both scowling again. Cedric looked slightly embarrassed.

"Harry fell off his broom, Dad," he muttered. "I told you… it was an accident…"

"Yes, but you didn't fall off, did you?" roared Amos genially, slapping his son on his back. "Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman… but the best man won, I'm sure Harry's say the same, wouldn't you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don't need to be a genius to tell which one's the better flier!"

"And this is Aurora, another friend of Ron," Mr. Weasley said.

"Aurora, as in the daughter of Black?" Mr. Diggory said, looking at me with a nasty look on his face. "You're sure you want your son to be friends with people like that?"

"People like what?" I asked angrily.

He just looked at me like I wasn't worth it. Like I was something that was filthy.

"Must be nearly time," said Mr. Weasley quickly, pulling out his watch again. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"

"No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets," said Mr. Diggory. "There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"

"Not that I know of," said Mr. Weasley. "Yes, it's a minute off… We'd better get ready…"

He looked around at Harry and Hermione. "You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do -"

With difficulty, owing to our bulky backpacks, the ten of us crowded around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory. We all stood there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop.

Nobody spoke. It suddenly occurred to me how odd this would look if a Muggle were to walk up here now… ten people, two of them grown men, clutching this manky old boot in the semidarkness, waiting…

"Three…" muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch, 'two… one…"

It happened immediately: I felt as though a hook just behind my navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. my feet left the ground; I could feel Harry and Cedric on either side of me, their shoulders banging into mine; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; my forefinger was stuck to the boot as though it was pulling me magnetically onward and then - my feet slammed into the ground; Harry staggered into me and I fell over; the Portkey hit the ground near my head with a heavy thud. I looked up. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric were still standing, though looking very windswept; everybody else was on the ground.

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice.

**A/N: so this was chapter 2, tell me what you think.**


	3. Bagman and Crouch

**A/N: I don't own anything**

**Chapter 3: Bagman and Crouch**

I disentangled myself from Harry and then I saw a hand in front of me. I looked up and saw Cedric. I took his hand and he pulled me up.

"Thank you," I said.

"It's nothing," he said smiling.

"You can let go of me now, I don't think your father would appreciated if you hold hands with me," I said to him. He was still holding my hand.

"I don't care what he thinks. He doesn't know you," he said. Still holding my hand.

"And you do?" I asked.

"I would like to," he said winking.

He let go of my hand and walked to his father. I felt I was blushing. He was kinda nice. I looked around me. We had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of us was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.

"Morning, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him; I could see an old newspaper, an empty drinks can, and a punctured football. Uncle Moony had teach me a lot about Muggles.

"Hello there, Arthur," said Basil wearily. "Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some… We've been here all night… You'd better get out of the way, we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite… Weasley… Weasley…" He consulted his parchment list. "About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr. Roberts. Diggory… second field… ask for Mr. Payne."

"Thanks, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, and he beckoned everyone to follow him. We set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist.

After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, I could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon. we said good-bye to the Diggory's (Cedric winking at me again) and approached the cottage door. A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. When he heard our footsteps, he turned his head to look at us.

"Morning!" said Mr. Weasley brightly.

"Morning," said the Muggle.

"Would you be Mr. Roberts?"

"Aye, I would," said Mr. Roberts. "And who're you?"

"Weasley - two tents, booked a couple of days ago?"

"Aye," said Mr. Roberts, consulting a list tacked to the door. "You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"

"That's it," said Mr. Weasley.

"You'll be paying now, then?" said Mr. Roberts.

"Ah - right - certainly -" said Mr. Weasley. He retreated a short distance from the cottage and beckoned Harry toward him. "Help me, Harry," he muttered, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and starting to peel the notes apart. "This one's a - a - a ten? Ah yes, I see the little number on it now… So this is a five?"

"A twenty," Harry corrected him in an undertone.

"Ah yes, so it is… I don't know, these little bits of paper…"

"You foreign?" said Mr. Roberts as Mr. Weasley returned with the correct notes.

"Foreign?" repeated Mr. Weasley, puzzled.

"You're not the first one who's had trouble with money," said Mr. Roberts, scrutinizing Mr. Weasley closely. "I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago."

"Did you really?" said Mr. Weasley nervously.

Mr. Roberts rummaged around in a tin for some change.

"Never been this crowded," he said suddenly, looking out over the misty field again. "Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up…"

"Is that right?" said Mr. Weasley, his hand held out for his change, but Mr. Roberts didn't give it to him.

"Aye," he said thoughtfully. "People from all over. Loads of foreigners. And not just foreigners. Weirdos, you know? There's a bloke walking 'round in a kilt and a poncho."

"Shouldn't he?" said Mr. Weasley anxiously.

"It's like some sort of… I dunno… like some sort of rally," said Mr. Roberts. "They all seem to know each other. Like a big party."

At that moment, a wizard in plus-fours appeared out of thin air next to Mr. Roberts's front door.

"Obliviate!" he said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr. Roberts.

Instantly, Mr. Roberts's eyes slid out of focus, his brows unknitted, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face. I recognized the symptoms of one who had just had his memory modified.

"A map of the campsite for you," Mr. Roberts said placidly to Mr. Weasley. "And your change."

"Thanks very much," said Mr. Weasley.

The wizard in plus-fours accompanied us toward the gate to the campsite. He looked exhausted: His chin was blue with stubble and there were deep purple shadows under his eyes. Once out of earshot of Mr. Roberts, he muttered to Mr. Weasley, "Been having a lot of trouble with him. Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy. And Ludo Bagman's not helping. Trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not a worry about anti-Muggle security Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur." He Disapparated.

"I thought Mr. Bagman was Head of Magical Games and Sports," said Ginny, looking surprised. "He should know better than to talk about Bludgers near Muggles, shouldn't he?"

"He should," said Mr. Weasley, smiling, and leading us through the gates into the campsite, "but Ludo's always been a bit… well… lax about security. You couldn't wish for a more enthusiastic head of the sports department though. He played Quidditch for England himself, you know. And he was the best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had."

We trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bellpulls, or weather vanes. However, here and there was a tent so obviously magical that I could hardly be surprised that Mr. Roberts was getting suspicious. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance.

A little farther on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.

"Always the same," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "We can't resist showing off when we get together. Ah, here we are, look, this is us."

They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and here was an empty space, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read WEEZLY.

"Couldn't have a better spot!" said Mr. Weasley happily. "The field is just on the other side of the wood there, we're as close as we could be." He hoisted his backpack from his shoulders.

"Right," he said excitedly, "no magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when we're out in these numbers on Muggle land. We'll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult… Muggles do it all the time… Here, Harry, where do you reckon we should start?"

Harry and Hermione worked out where most of the poles and pegs should go, and though Mr. Weasley was more of a hindrance than a help, because he got thoroughly overexcited when it came to using the mallet, they finally managed to erect a pair of shabby two-man tents.

All of us stood back to admire their handiwork. Nobody looking at these tents would guess they belonged to wizards, I thought. Hermione seemed to have spotted a problem; she gave Harry a quizzical look as Mr. Weasley dropped to his hands and knees and entered the first tent.

"We'll be a bit cramped," he called, "but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look."

I bent down, ducked under the tent flap. I had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. There were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats.

"Well, it's not for long," said Mr. Weasley, mopping his bald patch with a handkerchief and peering in at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom. "I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor fellow, he's got lumbago."

He picked up the dusty kettle and peered inside it. "We'll need water…"

"There's a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us," said Ron, who had followed Harry inside the tent and seemed completely unimpressed by its extraordinary inner proportions, not like Harry. It looked like he couldn't believe his eyes.

"It's on the other side of the field."

"Well, why don't you, Harry, Hermione and Aurora go and get us some water then" - Mr. Weasley handed over the kettle and a couple of saucepans - "and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire?"

"But we've got an oven," said Ron. "Why can't we just -"

"Ron, anti-Muggle security!" said Mr. Weasley, his face shining with anticipation.

"When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I've seen them at it!"

After a quick tour of the girls' tent, which was slightly smaller than the boys', though without the smell of cats, Harry, Ron, Hermione and me set off across the campsite with the kettle and saucepans.

Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, we could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. We made our way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around. It was only just dawning on me how many witches and wizards there must be in the world; I had never really thought much about those in other countries.

Our fellow campers were starting to wake up. First to stir were the families with small children. A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami. As we drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.

"How many times, Kevin? You don't - touch - Daddy's - wand - yecchh! "

She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst. Her scolding carried after us on the still air, mingling with the little boy's yells - "You bust slug! You bust slug!"

A short way farther on, we saw two little witches, barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls' toes to skim the dewy grass. A Ministry wizard had already spotted them; as he hurried past Harry, Ron, Hermione and me he muttered distractedly, "In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose -"

Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn't work. Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents that read: THE SALEM WITCHES' INSTITUTE. I caught snatches of conversation in strange languages from the inside of tents we passed, and though I couldn't understand a word, the tone of every single voice was excited.

"Er - is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?" said Ron.

It wasn't just Ron's eyes. We had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind us, we heard our names.

"Harry! Ron! Hermione! Aurora!"

It was Seamus Finnigan, our fellow Gryffindor fourth year. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to be his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas, also of Gryffindor. "Like the decorations?" said Seamus, grinning. "The Ministry's not too happy."

"Ah, why shouldn't we show our colors?" said Mrs. Finnigan. "You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?" she added, eyeing Harry, Ron, Hermione and me beadily.

When we had assured her that we were indeed supporting Ireland, we set off again, though, as Ron said, "Like we'd say anything else surrounded by that lot."

"I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents?" said Hermione.

"Let's go and have a look," said Harry, pointing to a large patch of tents upfield, where the Bulgarian flag - white, green, and red - was fluttering in the breeze. The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.

"Krum," said Ron quietly.

"What?" said Hermione.

"Krum!" said Ron. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"

"He looks really grumpy," said Hermione, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at them.

"Really grumpy?" Ron raised his eyes to the heavens. "Who cares what he looks like? He's unbelievable. He's really young too. Only just eighteen or something. He's a genius, you wait until tonight, you'll see."

There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field. Harry, Ron, Hermione and me joined it, right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.

"Just put them on, Archie, there's a good chap. You can't walk around like that, the Muggle at the gate's already getting suspicious –"

"I bought this in a Muggle shop," said the old wizard stubbornly. "Muggles wear them."

"Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these," said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.

"I'm not putting them on," said old Archie in indignation. "I like a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks."

Hermione was overcome with such a strong fit of the giggles at this point that she had to duck out of the queue and only returned when Archie had collected his water and moved away. Walking more slowly now, because of the weight of the water, we made our way back through the campsite. Here and there, we saw more familiar faces: other Hogwarts students with their families. Oliver Wood, the old captain of Harry's House Quidditch team, who had just left Hogwarts, dragged Harry over to his parents' tent to introduce him, and told him excitedly that he had just been signed to the Puddlemere United reserve team.

Next they were hailed by Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff fourth year, and a little farther on we saw Cho Chang, a girl who played Seeker on the Ravenclaw team. She waved and smiled at Harry, who slopped quite a lot of water down his front as he waved back. I rolled my eyes really? I still don't like the girl.

Harry pointed out a large group of teenagers whom we had never seen before.

"Who d'you reckon they are?" he said. "They don't go to Hogwarts, do they?"

"'Spect they go to some foreign school," said Ron. "I know there are others. Never met anyone who went to one, though. Bill had a penfriend at a school in Brazil… this was years and years ago… and he wanted to go on an exchange trip but Mum and Dad couldn't afford it. His penfriend got all offended when he said he wasn't going and sent him a cursed hat. It made his ears shrivel up."

"You've been ages," said George when we finally got back to the Weasleys' tents.

"Met a few people," said Ron, setting the water down. "You've not got that fire started yet?"

"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred.

Mr. Weasley was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.

"Oops!" he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.

"Come here, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him, and showing him how to do it properly.

At last we got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while we waited, however. Our tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Mr. Weasley cordially as they passed. Mr. Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for Harry's ,Hermione's and mine benefit; his own children knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested.

"That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office… Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he's with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he's had those horns for a while now… Hello, Arnie… Arnold Peasegood, he's an Obliviator - member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know… and that's Bode and Croaker… they're Unspeakables…"

"They're what?"

"From the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no idea what they get up to…"

At last, the fire was ready, and we had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward us.

"Just Apparated, Dad," said Percy loudly. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"

We were halfway through our plates of eggs and sausages when Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding toward us.

"Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"

Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person I had seen so far, even including old Archie in his flowered nightdress. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.

"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily. He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement.

"Arthur, old man," he puffed as he reached the campfire, "what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming… and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements… Not much for me to do!"

Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air.

Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from wanting to make a good impression.

"Ah - yes," said Mr. Weasley, grinning, "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry - and this is Fred - no, George, sorry - that's Fred - Bill, Charlie, Ron - my daughter, Ginny and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and Aurora Black."

Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Harry's name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry's forehead. When he heard my name, he took a large breath and looked at me. He was staring at me, it freaked me out. So I did what everyone would have done in my situation. I gave the man a dazzling smile. It shook him out the stare and he smiled back. Victory!

"Everyone," Mr. Weasley continued, "this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets -"

Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing.

"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes.

"I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first - I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years - and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a weeklong match."

"Oh… go on then," said Mr. Weasley. "Let's see… a Galleon on Ireland to win?"

"A Galleon?" Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself. "Very well, very well… any other takers?"

"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Mr. Weasley. "Molly wouldn't like -"

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."

"You don't want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that," Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.

"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"

Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval.

"Boys," said Mr. Weasley under his breath, "I don't want you betting… That's all your savings… Your mother -"

"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly. "They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance… I'll give you excellent odds on that one… We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we…"

Mr. Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins' names.

"Cheers," said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away into the front of his robes. Bagman turned most cheerfully back to Mr. Weasley.

"Couldn't do me a brew, I suppose? I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties, and I can't understand a word he's saying. Barty'll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages."

"Mr. Crouch?" said Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll…"

"Anyone can speak Troll," said Fred dismissively. "All you have to do is point and grunt."

Percy threw Fred an extremely nasty look and stoked the fire vigorously to bring the kettle back to the boil.

"Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?" Mr. Weasley asked as Bagman settled himself down on the grass beside us all.

"Not a dicky bird," said Bagman comfortably. "But she'll turn up. Poor old Bertha… memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction.bLost, you take my word for it. She'll wander back into the office sometime in October, thinking it's still July."

"You don't think it might be time to send someone to look for her?" Mr. Weasley suggested tentatively as Percy handed Bagman his tea.

"Barty Crouch keeps saying that," said Bagman, his round eyes widening innocently, "but we really can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh - talk of the devil! Barty!"

A wizard had just Apparated at our fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp robes. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his narrow toothbrush mustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes were very highly polished. I could see at once why Percy idolized him. Percy was a great believer in rigidly following rules, and Mr. Crouch had complied with the rule about Muggle dressing so thoroughly that he could have passed for a bank manager; I doubted even Uncle Vernon would have spotted him for what he really was. But I didn't like the man. I had a bad feeling when I saw him.

"Pull up a bit of grass, Barry," said Ludo brightly, patting the ground beside him.

"No thank you, Ludo," said Crouch, and there was a bite of impatience in his voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box."

"Oh is that what they're after?" said Bagman. "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."

"Mr. Crouch!" said Percy breathlessly, sunk into a kind of halfbow that made him look like a hunchback. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Oh," said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes - thank you, Weatherby."

Fred, George and me choked into our own cups. Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle.

"Oh and I've been wanting a word with you too, Arthur," said Mr. Crouch, his sharp eyes falling upon Mr. Weasley. "Ali Bashir's on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets."

Mr. Weasley heaved a deep sigh.

"I sent him an owl about that just last week. If I've told him once I've told him a hundred times: Carpets are defined as a Muggle Artifact by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?"

"I doubt it," said Mr. Crouch, accepting a cup from Percy. "He's desperate to export here."

"Well, they'll never replace brooms in Britain, will they?" said Bagman.

"Ali thinks there's a niche in the market for a family vehicle," said Mr. Crouch. "I remember my grandfather had an Axminster that could seat twelve - but that was before carpets were banned, of course."

He spoke as though he wanted to leave nobody in any doubt that all his ancestors had abided strictly by the law.

"So, been keeping busy, Barty?" said Bagman breezily.

"Fairly," said Mr. Crouch dryly. "Organizing Portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo."

"I expect you'll both be glad when this is over?" said Mr. Weasley.

Ludo Bagman looked shocked.

"Glad! Don't know when I've had more fun…bStill, it's not as though we haven't got anything to look forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?"

Mr. Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman.

"We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details -"

"Oh details!" said Bagman, waving the word away like a cloud of midges. "They've signed, haven't they? They've agreed, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts -"

"Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians, you know," said Mr. Crouch sharply, cutting Bagman's remarks short. "Thank you for the tea, Weatherby."

He pushed his undrunk tea back at Percy and waited for Ludo to rise; Bagman struggled to his feet, swigging down the last of his tea, the gold in his pockets chinking merrily.

"See you all later!" he said. "You'll be up in the Top Box with me - I'm commentating!" He waved, Barty Crouch nodded curtly, and both of them Disapparated.

"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" said Fred at once. "What were they talking about?"

"You'll find out soon enough," said , smiling.

"It's classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it," said Percy stiffly. "Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."

"Oh shut up, Weatherby," said Fred.

A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over the campsite as the afternoon wore on. By dusk, the still summer air itself seemed to be quivering with anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last vestiges of pretence disappeared: the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.

Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes - green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria - which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.

"Been saving my pocket money all summer for this," Ron told Harry as they and Hermione and me strolled through the salesmen, buying souvenirs. Though Ron purchased a dancing shamrock hat and a large green rosette, he also bought a small figure of Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. The miniature Krum walked backward and forward over Ron's hand, scowling up at the green rosette above him. I also had a large green rosette.

"Wow, look at these!" said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials.

"Omnioculars," said the saleswizard eagerly. "You can replay action… slow everything down… and they flash up a play-by- play breakdown if you need it. Bargain - ten Galleons each."

"Wish I hadn't bought this now," said Ron, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing longingly at the Omnioculars.

"Four pairs," said Harry firmly to the wizard.

"No - don't bother," said Ron, going red. He was always touchy about the fact that Harry, who had inherited a small fortune from his parents, had much more money than he did.

"You won't be getting anything for Christmas," Harry told him, thrusting Omnioculars into his, Hermione's and my hands. "For about ten years, mind."

"Fair enough," said Ron, grinning.

"Oooh, thanks, Harry," said Hermione. "And I'll get us some programs, look -"

Our money bags considerably lighter, we went back to the tents. Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were all sporting green rosettes too, and Mr. Weasley was carrying an Irish flag. Fred and George had no souvenirs as they had given Bagman all their gold.

And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.

"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of us. "Come on, let's go!"

**A/N: another chapter done! Please review**


	4. The Quidditch World Cup

**A/N: I don't own anything**

**Chapter 4: The Quidditch World Cup**

Clutching our purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, we all hurried into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail. We could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around us, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious; I couldn't stop grinning. We walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last We emerged on the other side and found ourselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though I could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, I could tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley, spotting the awestruck look on our faces. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again… bless them," he added fondly, leading the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked our tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. We clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to our left and right. Mr. Weasley's party kept climbing, and at last we reached the top of the staircase and found ourselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here, and I, filing into the front seats with the Weasleys, looked down upon a scene the likes of which I could never have imagined.

A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite us, almost at my eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, I saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family - safe, reliable, and with Built-in Anti-Burgler Buzzer… Mrs. Shower's All Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, No Stain!… Gladrags Wizardwear - London, Paris, Hogsmeade…

I tore my eyes away from the sign and looked over my shoulder to see who else was sharing the box with us. So far it was empty, except for a tiny creature sitting in the second from last seat at the end of the row behind us. The creature, whose legs were so short they stuck out in front of it on the chair, was wearing a tea towel draped like a toga, and it had its face hidden in its hands. A house-elf.

"Dobby?" said Harry incredulously next to me. Did he know this one?

The tiny creature looked up and stretched its fingers, revealing enormous brown eyes and a nose the exact size and shape of a large tomato.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" squeaked the elf curiously from between its fingers. It's voice a teeny, quivering squeak of a voice, and I suspected though it was very hard to tell with a house-elf – that this one might just be female. Ron and Hermione spun around in their seats to look. Even Mr. Weasley looked around in interest.

"Sorry," Harry told the elf, "I just thought you were someone I knew."

"But I knows Dobby too, sir!" squeaked the elf.

She was shielding her face, as though blinded by light, though the Top Box was not brightly lit. "My name is Winky, sir - and you, sir -" Her dark brown eyes widened to the size of side plates as they rested upon Harry's scar. "You is surely Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, I am," said Harry.

"But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!" she said, lowering her hands very slightly and looking awestruck.

"How is he?" said Harry. "How's freedom suiting him?"

"Ah, sir," said Winky, shaking her head, "ah sir, meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favor, sir, when you is setting him free."

"Why?" said Harry, taken aback. "What's wrong with him?"

"Freedom is going to Dobby's head, sir," said Winky sadly. "Ideas above his station, sir. Can't get another position, sir."

"Why not?" said Harry.

Winky lowered her voice by a half-octave and whispered, "He is wanting paying for his work, sir."

"Paying?" said Harry blankly. "Well - why shouldn't he be paid?"

Winky looked quite horrified at the idea and closed her fingers slightly so that her face was half-hidden again.

"House-elves is not paid, sir!" she said in a muffled squeak. "No, no, no. I says to Dobby, I says, go find yourself a nice family and settle down, Dobby. He is getting up to all sorts of high jinks, sir, what is unbecoming to a house-elf. You goes racketing around like this, Dobby, I says, and next thing I hear you's up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, like some common goblin."

"Well, it's about time he had a bit of fun," said Harry.

"House-elves is not supposed to have fun, Harry Potter," said Winky firmly, from behind her hands. "House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter" - she glanced toward the edge of the box and gulped - "but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir."

"Why's he sent you up here, if he knows you don't like heights?" said Harry, frowning.

"Master - master wants me to save him a seat, Harry Potter. He is very busy," said Winky, tilting her head toward the empty space beside her. "Winky is wishing she is back in master's tent, Harry Potter, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf."

She gave the edge of the box another frightened look and hid her eyes completely again. Harry turned back to us.

"So that's a house-elf?" Ron muttered. "Weird things, aren't they?"

"Dobby was weirder," said Harry fervently.

"Who's Dobby?" is asked.

"It's a house-elf who tried so save my life in second year. He was working for the Malfoy's but I set him free. He was being mistreated." Harry said.

Ron pulled out his Omnioculars and started testing them, staring down into the crowd on the other side of the stadium.

"Wild!" he said, twiddling the replay knob on the side. "I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again… and again… and again…"

"Gross, Ron, really gross. Show some manners!" I said.

Hermione, meanwhile, was skimming eagerly through her velvetcovered, tasseled program.

"'A display from the team mascots will precede the match,'" she read aloud.

"Oh that's always worth watching," said Mr. Weasley. "National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show."

The box filled gradually around us over the next half hour. Mr. Weasley kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. Percy jumped to his feet so often that he looked as though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog. When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered.

Highly embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and thereafter remained in his seat, throwing jealous looks at Harry, whom Cornelius Fudge had greeted like an old friend. They had met before, and Fudge shook Harry's hand in a fatherly fashion, asked how he was, and introduced him to the wizards on either side of him.

"Harry Potter, you know," he told the Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn't seem to understand a word of English.

"Harry Potter… oh come on now, you know who he is… the boy who survived You-Know-Who… you do know who he is -"

The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry's scar and started gabbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at it.

"Knew we'd get there in the end," said Fudge wearily to Harry. "I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat… Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places… ah, and here's Lucius!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione and me turned quickly. Edging along the second row to three still-empty seats right behind Mr. Weasley were none other than Dobby the house-elf's former owners: Lucius Malfoy; his son, Draco; and Narcissa Malfoy, a former Black. Draco Malfoy and me had been enemies ever since my first journey to Hogwarts. I didn't want to become his friend. A pale boy with a pointed face and white-blond hair, Draco greatly resembled his father. His mother was blonde too; tall and slim, she would have been nice-looking if she hadn't been wearing a look that suggested there was a nasty smell under her nose. It's common under the Black Woman. Thank God, I look more like my mother.

"Ah, Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"

"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling and bowing to Mrs. Malfoy. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk - Obalonsk - Mr. - well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else - you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"

It was a tense moment. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy looked at each other. Mr. Malfoy's cold gray eyes swept over Mr. Weasley, and then up and down the row.

"Good lord, Arthur," he said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

Fudge, who wasn't listening, said, "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."

"How - how nice," said Mr. Weasley, with a very strained smile.

Mr. Malfoy's eyes had returned to Hermione, who went slightly pink, but stared determinedly back at him.

I knew exactly what was making Mr. Malfoy's lip curl like that. The Malfoys prided themselves on being purebloods; in other words, they considered anyone of Muggle descent, like Hermione, second-class.

However, under the gaze of the Minister of Magic, Mr. Malfoy didn't dare say anything. He nodded sneeringly to Mr. Weasley and continued down the line to his seats. Draco shot Harry, Ron, Hermione and me one contemptuous look, then settled himself between his mother and father.

"Slimy gits," Ron muttered as he, Harry, Hermione and me turned to face the field again. Next moment, Ludo Bagman charged into the box.

"Everyone ready?" he said, his round face gleaming like a great, excited Edam. "Minister - ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said "Sonorus!" and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen… welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite us was wiped clear of its last message (Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans - A Risk With Every Mouthful!) and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce… the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.

"I wonder what they've brought," said Mr. Weasley, leaning forward in his seat. "Aaah!" He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly on his robes. "Veela!"

"What are veel -?"

But a hundred veela were now gliding out onto the field, and Harry's question was answered for him. Veela were women… except that they weren't. Uncle Moony told me all about Veela. He warned me to stay away from them. They could be very scary when their angry.

The veela had started to dance and as they danced faster and faster, the man around us, their eyes were glassy. Harry and Ron had stand up and were standing on the wall of the box. Like they were going to jump.

"Harry, what are you doing?" I said.

The music stopped. Harry blinked. I pulled him back on his seat. I laughed at his face.

Angry yells were filling the stadium. The crowd didn't want the veela to go. Ron, meanwhile, was absentmindedly shredding the shamrocks on his hat. Mr. Weasley, smiling slightly, leaned over to Ron and tugged the hat out of his hands.

"You'll be wanting that," he said, "once Ireland have had their say."

"Huh?" said Ron, staring openmouthed at the veela, who had now lined up along one side of the field.

Hermione made a loud tutting noise. "Honestly!" she said.

"And now," roared Ludo Bagman's voice, "kindly put your wands in the air… for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it –

"Excellent!" yelled Ron as the shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. Squinting up at the shamrock, I realized that it was actually comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green.

"Leprechauns!" said Mr. Weasley over the tumultuous applause of the crowd, many of whom were still fighting and rummaging around under their chairs to retrieve the gold.

"There you go," Ron yelled happily, stuffing a fistful of gold coins into Harry's hand, "for the Omnioculars! Now you've got to buy me a Christmas present, ha!"

Apparently he doesn't know that the gold will be gone in a few hours. Oh well, who am I to burst his bubble.

The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you - Dimitrov!"

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

"Ivanova!"

A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.

"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand - Krum!"

"That's him, that's him!" yelled Ron, following Krum with his Omnioculars. I quickly focused my own.

Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen.

"And now, please greet - the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting - Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand - Lynch!"

Seven green blurs swept onto the field.

"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"

A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a mustache to rival Uncle Vernon's, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other.

I spun the speed dial on my Omnioculars back to normal, watching closely as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open - four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and (I saw it for the briefest moment, before it sped out of sight) the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch.

With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.

"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

It was Quidditch as I had never seen it played before. I was pressing my Omnioculars so hard to my eyes that it was cutting into the bridge of my nose. The speed of the players was incredible - the Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names. It was amazing. I was so happy that I could be here! I could just follow the game, so fast.

"TROY SCORES!" roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. "Ten zero to Ireland!"

"What?" Harry yelled, looking wildly around through his Omnioculars. "But Levski's got the Quaffle!"

"Harry, if you're not going to watch at normal speed, you're going to miss things!" I shouted.

Hermione was dancing up and down, waving her arms in the air while Troy did a lap of honor around the field.

I looked quickly over the top of my Omnioculars and saw that the leprechauns watching from the sidelines had all risen into the air again and formed the great, glittering shamrock. Across the field, the veela were watching them sulkily.

I knew enough about Quidditch to see that the Irish Chasers were superb. They worked as a seamless team, their movements so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one another's minds as they positioned themselves, and the rosette on my chest kept squeaking their names: "Troy - Mullet - Moran!" And within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the greenclad supporters.

The match became still faster, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks; dodge the Keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria's first goal.

"Fingers in your ears!" bellowed Mr. Weasley as the veela started to dance in celebration. The boys listened and Hermione and me laughed. It was a silly sight.

After a few seconds, the veela had stopped dancing, and Bulgaria was again in possession of the Quaffle.

"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova - oh I say!" roared Bagman. One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes. I followed their descent through my Omnioculars, squinting to see where the Snitch was –

"They're going to crash!" screamed Hermione next to me.

She was half right - at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.

"Fool!" moaned Mr. Weasley. "Krum was feinting!"

"It's time-out!" yelled Bagman's voice, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!"

"He'll be okay, he only got ploughed!" Charlie said reassuringly to Ginny, who was hanging over the side of the box, looking horror-struck. "Which is what Krum was after, of course…"

I hastily pressed the replay and play-by-play buttons on my Omnioculars, twiddled the speed dial, and put them back up to my eyes. I watched as Krum and Lynch dived again in slow motion. WRONSKI DEFENSIVE FEINT - DANGEROUS SEEKER DIVERSION read the shining purple lettering across my lenses. I saw Krum's face contorted with concentration as he pulled out of the dive just in time, while Lynch was flattened, and I understood - Krum hadn't seen the Snitch at all, he was just making Lynch copy him. I had never seen anyone fly like that; Krum hardly looked as though he was using a broomstick at all; he moved so easily through the air that he looked unsupported and weightless. Even Harry wasn't that good, and he was the best I know.

I turned my Omnioculars back to normal and focused them on Krum. He was now circling high above Lynch, who was being revived by mediwizards with cups of potion. I, focusing still more closely upon Krum's face, saw his dark eyes darting all over the ground a hundred feet below. He was using the time while Lynch was revived to look for the Snitch without interference.

Lynch got to his feet at last, to loud cheers from the green-clad supporters, mounted his Firebolt, and kicked back off into the air. His revival seemed to give Ireland new heart. When Mostafa blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action with a skill unrivaled by anything I had seen so far.

After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals.

They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier. As Mullet shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew out to meet her. Whatever happened was over so quickly Ididn't catch it, but a scream of rage from the Irish crowd, and Mostafa's long, shrill whistle blast, told me it had been a foul.

"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing — excessive use of elbows!" Bagman informed the roaring spectators. "And - yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!"

The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled, now darted together to form the words "HA, HA, HA!" The veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and started to dance again.

As one, the Weasley boys and Harry stuffed their fingers into their ears, but Hermione, who hadn't bothered, was soon tugging on my arm. I turned to look at her.

"Look at the referee!" she said, giggling.

I looked down at the field. Hassan Mostafa had landed right in front of the dancing veela, and was acting very oddly indeed. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache excitedly.

"Now, we can't have that!" said Ludo Bagman, though he sounded highly amused. "Somebody slap the referee!"

A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself; I, watching through the Omnioculars again, saw that he looked exceptionally embarrassed and had started shouting at the veela, who had stopped dancing and were looking mutinous.

"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!" said Bagman's voice. "Now there's something we haven't seen before… Oh this could turn nasty…"

It did: The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesticulating toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words "HEE, HEE, HEE." Mostafa was not impressed by the Bulgarians' arguments, however; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.

"Two penalties for Ireland!" shouted Bagman, and the Bulgarian crowd howled with anger. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms… yes… there they go… and Troy takes the Quaffle."

Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov in particular seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.

"Foul!" roared the Irish supporters as one, all standing up in a great wave of green. "Foul!" echoed Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice. "Dimitrov skins Moran - deliberately flying to collide there - and it's got to be another penalty - yes, there's the whistle!"

The leprechauns had risen into the air again, and this time, they formed a giant hand, which was making a very rude sign indeed at the veela across the field. At this, the veela lost control. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire at the leprechauns. Watching through his Omnioculars, I saw that they didn't look remotely beautiful now. On the contrary, their faces were elongating into sharp, cruelbeaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders –

"And that, boys," yelled Mr. Weasley over the tumult of the crowd below, "is why you should never go for looks alone!"

Ministry wizards were flooding onto the field to separate the veela and the leprechauns, but with little success; meanwhile, the pitched battle below was nothing to the one taking place above. I turned this way and that, staring through my Omnioculars, as the Quaffie changed hands with the speed of a bullet.

"Levski - Dimitrov - Moran - Troy - Mullet - Ivanova - Moran again - Moran - MORAN SCORES!"

But the cheers of the Irish supporters were barely heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts now issuing from the Ministry members' wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians.

The game recommenced immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov - The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face.

There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum's nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn't blow his whistle. He had become distracted, and I couldn't blame him; one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight.

I wanted someone to realize that Krum was injured; even though I was supporting Ireland, Krum was the most exciting player on the field. Ron obviously felt the same.

"Time-out! Ah, come on, he can't play like that, look at him -"

"Look at Lynch!" Harry yelled.

For the Irish Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive, and I was quite sure that this was no Wronski Feint; this was the real thing…

"He's seen the Snitch!" Harry shouted. "He's seen it! Look at him go!" Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming their Seeker on… but Krum was on his tail. How he could see where he was going, I had no idea; there were flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again –

"They're going to crash!" shrieked Hermione.

"They're not!" roared Ron.

"Lynch is!" yelled Harry and me.

And we were right - for the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" bellowed Charlie, along the row.

"He's got it - Krum's got it - it's all over!" shouted Harry.

Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.

The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match.

"KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WINS — good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Ron bellowed, even as he jumped up and down, applauding with his hands over his head. "He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!"

"He knew they were never going to catch up!" Harry shouted back over all the noise, also applauding loudly. "The Irish Chasers were too good… He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all…"

"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione said, leaning forward to watch Krum land as a swarm of mediwizards blasted a path through the battling leprechauns and veela to get to him. "He looks a terrible mess…"

I put my Omnioculars to my eyes again. It was hard to see what was happening below, because leprechauns were zooming delightedly all over the field, but I could just make out Krum, surrounded by mediwizards. He looked surlier than ever and refused to let them mop him up. His team members were around him, shaking their heads and looking dejected; a short way away, the Irish players were dancing gleefully in a shower of gold descending from their mascots.

Flags were waving all over the stadium, the Irish national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking back into their usual, beautiful selves now, though looking dispirited and forlorn.

"Vell, ve fought bravely," said a gloomy voice behind me. I looked around; it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.

"You can speak English!" said Fudge, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"

"Veil, it vos very funny," said the Bulgarian minister, shrugging.

"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" roared Bagman.

My eyes were suddenly dazzled by a blinding white light, as the Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Squinting toward the entrance, I saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge, who was still looking very disgruntled that he'd been using sign language all day for nothing.

"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers - Bulgaria!" Bagman shouted.

And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; I could see thousands and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in our direction.

One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch. I noticed that he seemed much less coordinated on the ground. He was slightly duck-footed and distinctly round-shouldered. But when Krum's name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, earsplitting roar.

And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval. My hands were numb with clapping.

At last, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another lap of honor on their brooms (Aidan Lynch on the back of Confolly's, clutching hard around his waist and still grinning in a bemused sort of way), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, "Quietus."

"They'll be talking about this one for years," he said hoarsely, "a really unexpected twist, that… shame it couldn't have lasted longer… Ah yes… yes, I owe you… how much?"

For Fred and George had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Ludo Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched.

**A/N: tell me what you think. Wasn't an easy chapter with all that Quidditch. **


	5. The Dark Mark

**A/N: I don't own anything**

**Chapter 5: The Dark Mark**

"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley implored Fred and George as we all made our way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs.

"Don't worry, Dad," said Fred gleefully, "we've got big plans for this money. We don't want it confiscated."

Mr. Weasley looked for a moment as though he was going to ask what these big plans were, but seemed to decide, upon reflection, that he didn't want to know. If you're asking me, a wise decision.

We were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to our campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward us on the night air as we retraced our steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over our heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When we finally reached the tents, nobody felt like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around us, Mr. Weasley agreed that they could all have one last cup of cocoa (thee for me) together before turning in. We were soon arguing enjoyably about the match; Mr. Weasley got drawn into a disagreement about cobbing with Charlie, and it was only when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that Mr. Weasley called a halt to the verbal replays and insisted that everyone go to bed.

Hermione, Ginny and me stood up, said goodnight and went to our tent.

From the other side of the campsite we could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang.

I lay staring up at the canvas ceiling of the tent, watching the glow of an occasional leprechaun lantern flying overhead, wondering if Harry is going to be here someday, as a player. With me standing next to him. Smiling I fell to sleep.

Suddenly a voice was shouting to get up.

"Get up! Ginny - Hermione - Aurora come on now, get up, this is urgent!"

I sat up quickly and looked around.

"S' matter?" I asked.

Dimly, I could tell that something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. I could hear screams, and the sound of people running. I slipped from my bed and reached for my clothes, but Mr. Weasley, who had pulled on his jeans over his own pajamas, said, "No time, Aurora - just grab a jacket and get outside - quickly!"

I did as I was told and hurried out of the tent, Hermione and Ginny at my heels. By the light of the few fires that were still burning, I could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward us, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire.

Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward us; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene. A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. I squinted at them… They didn't seem to have faces… Then I realized that their heads were hooded and their faces masked. Death Eaters!

High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air.

Two of the figures were very small. More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice I saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.

The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and I recognized one of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

I went to stand next to the boys. Hermione and Ginny standing next to me. They both had a look of disgust and fear on their faces.

"That's sick," Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. "That is really sick…"

At the same moment, Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys' tent, fully dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands out.

"We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr. Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. "You lot - get into the woods, and stick together. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!"

Bill, Charlie, and Percy were already sprinting away toward the oncoming marchers; Mr. Weasley tore after them. Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction toward the source of the trouble. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was coming ever closer.

"C'mon," said Fred, grabbing Ginny's hand and starting to pull her toward the wood. Harry, Ron, Hermione, George and me followed. We all looked back as we reached the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever; we could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the center, but they were having great difficulty. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall.

The colored lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around us in the cold night air.

I felt myself being pushed hither and thither by people whose faces I could not see. Then I heard Ron yell with pain.

"What happened?" said Hermione anxiously, stopping so abruptly that Harry walked into her and I walked into Harry. "Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid - lumos!"

She illuminated her wand and directed its narrow beam across the path. Ron was lying sprawled on the ground.

"Tripped over a tree root," he said angrily, getting to his feet again.

"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," said a drawling voice from behind us.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and me turned sharply. Draco Malfoy was standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed.

His arms folded, he seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees. Ron told Malfoy to do something that I knew he would never have dared say in front of Mrs. Weasley.

"Language, Weasley," said Malfoy, his pale eyes glittering. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?"

He nodded at Hermione, and at the same moment, a blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite, and a flash of green light momentarily lit the trees around us.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Hermione defiantly.

"Granger, they're after Muggles," said Malfoy. "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around… they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."

"Hermione's a witch," Harry snarled.

"Have it your own way, Potter," said Malfoy, grinning maliciously. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."

"You watch your mouth!" shouted Ron. Everybody present knew that "Mudblood" was a very offensive term for a witch or wizard of Muggle parentage.

"Never mind, Ron," said Hermione quickly, seizing Ron's arm to restrain him as he took a step toward Malfoy. There came a bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than anything we had heard several people nearby screamed. Malfoy chuckled softly.

"Scare easily, don't they?" he said lazily. "I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What's he up to - trying to rescue the Muggles?"

"Where're your parents?" I said, my temper rising. "Out there wearing masks, are they?"

Malfoy turned his face to me, still smiling.

"Well… if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Black? By the way, shouldn't you join them? We all know about your father."

"Oh come on," said Hermione, with a disgusted look at Malfoy, "let's go and find the others."

"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger," sneered Malfoy.

"Come on," Hermione repeated, and she pulled Harry and me up the path again.

"I'll bet you anything his dad is one of that masked lot!" said Ron hotly.

"Well, with any luck, the Ministry will catch him!" said Hermione fervently. "Oh I can't believe this. Where have the others got to?"

Fred, George, and Ginny were nowhere to be seen, though the path was packed with plenty of other people, all looking nervously over their shoulders toward the commotion back at the campsite. A huddle of teenagers in pajamas was arguing vociferously a little way along the path. When they saw Harry, Ron,Hermione and me a girl with thick curly hair turned and said quickly,

"Oü est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdue -"

"Er - what?" said Ron.

"Oh…" The girl who had spoken turned her back on him, and as we walked on we distinctly heard her say, "Ogwarts."

"Beauxbatons," muttered Hermione.

"Sorry?" said Harry.

"They must go to Beauxbatons," said Hermione. "You know… Beauxbatons Academy of Magic… I read about it in An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe."

"Oh… yeah… right," said Harry.

"Fred and George can't have gone that far," said Ron, pulling out his wand, lighting it like Hermione's, and squinting up the path. I brought my wand out to. Harry dug in the pockets of his jacket for his own wand.

"Ah, no, I don't believe it… I've lost my wand!"

"You're kidding!"

Ron, Hermione and me raised our wands high enough to spread the narrow beams of light farther on the ground; Harry looked all around him, but his wand was nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe it's back in the tent," said Ron.

"Maybe it fell out of your pocket when we were running?" Hermione suggested anxiously.

"Yeah," said Harry, "maybe…"

A rustling noise nearby made all four of us jump. Winky the house-elf was fighting her way out of a clump of bushes nearby. She was moving in a most peculiar fashion, apparently with great difficulty; it was as though someone invisible were trying to hold her back.

"There is bad wizards about!" she squeaked distractedly as she leaned forward and labored to keep running. "People high - high in the air! Winky is getting out of the way!"

And she disappeared into the trees on the other side of the path, panting and squeaking as she fought the force that was restraining her.

"What's up with her?" said Ron, looking curiously after Winky. "Why can't she run properly?"

"Bet she didn't ask permission to hide," said Harry.

"You know, house-elves get a very raw deal!" said Hermione indignantly. "It's slavery, that's what it is! That Mr. Crouch made her go up to the top of the stadium, and she was terrified, and he's got her bewitched so she can't even run when they start trampling tents! Why doesn't anyone do something about it?"

"Well, the elves are happy, aren't they?" Ron said. "You heard old Winky back at the match… 'House-elves is not supposed to have fun'… that's what she likes, being bossed around…"

"It's people like you, Ron," Hermione began hotly, "who prop up rotten and unjust systems, just because they're too lazy to -"

Another loud bang echoed from the edge of the wood. I looked behind me and saw something. I walked towards it, to find out what it is. It was a rabbit. A very cute rabbit. It looked terrified and so young.

"Hey guys look over here," I yelled over my shoulder. I received no answer. I turned around, "Guys?"

They were gone, there was nobody in sight. I was slightly panicking. They left me! I walked to where they last were. I looked at the ground, maybe I could see where they were going. It was no use, there were to many footprints. Tears were forming in my eyes. I'm alone.

"Aurora?"

I turned. "Cedric!"

He walked to me. "What are you doing here alone, it's not safe!"

"I know, I lost the others."

"Well, you got me now."

I threw myself in his arms. He pulled me close to him. "Shh, it's ok!"

"I'm fine, thank you! Help me find them?" I asked him. I looked up to him and stared in his eyes.

"Ok, I'll help" he said. He let go of me put took my hand in his.

I looked at our hands and then at him, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled, " So we don't get separated."

"Aah, really, ok than," I said smiling.

We walked in silence. I felt warm, my hand felt like it was on fire. I saw him glancing at me now and then. I felt flattered. This silence felt nice.

"Hey, over there." He suddenly said.

I looked where he was pointing to. I could see the outlines of three people. When we got closer, we could hear a voice.

"I reckon we can just wait here, you know. We'll hear anyone coming a mile off. I'm sure she will find us, she can't be far. I hope she's ok."

It was Harry.

"We found them!" I said and I turned to Cedric. I gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome! I think I'm going to help you more if this is going to be the reward everytime." He winked.

I laughed and started to walk to the others. My hand was still in Cedric's so I was pulling him along.

"Harry!" I yelled.

Harry turned to my voice. "Aurora, you're ok! Thank God. I'm so sorry, when we found out you weren't with us anymore, we looked for you. We couldn't find you so we thought if we waited somewhere, you could find us, and …"

He walked to me and hugged me close. It was a little difficult, I was still holding Cedric's hand.

"Harry, it's ok. I'm fine, it's my fault. Luckily I ran into Cedric, he helped me." I looked at Cedric and winked. He smiled.

"Still, I'm sorry. Thank you Cedric!" Harry said.

"No problem," Cedric said.

The words were hardly out of his mouth, when Ludo Bagman emerged from behind a tree right ahead of us.

Even by the feeble light of the four wands, I could see that a great change had come over Bagman. He no longer looked buoyant and rosy-faced; there was no more spring in his step. He looked very white and strained.

"Who's that?" he said, blinking down at us, trying to make out our faces. "What are you doing in here, all alone?"

We looked at one another, surprised.

"Well - there's a sort of riot going on," said Ron.

Bagman stared at him.

"What?"

"At the campsite… some people have got hold of a family of Muggles…

Bagman swore loudly.

"Damn them!" he said, looking quite distracted, and without another word, he Disapparated with a small pop!

"Not exactly on top of things, Mr. Bagman, is he?" said Hermione, frowning.

"He was a great Beater, though," said Ron, leading the way off the path into a small clearing, and sitting down on a patch of dry grass at the foot of a tree. "The Wimbourne Wasps won the league three times in a row while he was with them."

He took his small figure of Krum out of his pocket, set it down on the ground, and watched it walk around. Like the real Krum, the model was slightly duck-footed and round-shouldered, much less impressive on his splayed feet than on his broomstick. I was listening for noise from the campsite. Everything seemed much quieter; perhaps the riot was over.

"I hope the others are okay," said Hermione after a while.

"They'll be fine," said Ron.

"Imagine if your dad catches Lucius Malfoy," said Harry, sitting down next to Ron and watching the small figure of Krum slouching over the fallen leaves. "He's always said he'd like to get something on him."

"That'd wipe the smirk off old Draco's face, all right," said Ron.

"Those poor Muggles, though," said Hermione nervously. "What if they can't get them down?"

"They will," said Ron reassuringly. "They'll find a way."

"Mad, though, to do something like that when the whole Ministry of Magic's out here tonight!" said Hermione. "I mean, how do they expect to get away with it? Do you think they've been drinking, or are they just -"

But she broke off abruptly and looked over her shoulder. Harry, Ron, Cedric and me looked quickly around too. It sounded as though someone was staggering toward our clearing. We waited, listening to the sounds of the uneven steps behind the dark trees. But the footsteps came to a sudden halt.

"Hello?" called Harry.

There was silence. Harry got to his feet and peered around the tree. It was too dark to see very far.

"Who's there?" he said.

And then, without warning, the silence was rent by a voice unlike any we had heard in the wood; and it uttered, not a panicked shout, but what sounded like a spell.

"MORSMORDRE!"

And something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness my eyes had been struggling to penetrate; it flew up over the treetops and into the sky.

"What the -?" gasped Ron as he sprang to his feet again, staring up at the thing that had appeared.

It was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As we watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

Suddenly, the wood all around them erupted with screams. I couldn't blame them.

"Who's there?" Harry called again.

"Harry, come on, move!" I had seized the collar of his jacket and was tugging him backward.

"What's the matter?" Harry said, startled to see my face so white and terrified.

"It's the Dark Mark, Harry!" I moaned, pulling him as hard as I could. "Voldemort's sign!"

"Voldemort's – "

"Harry, come on!"

Harry turned - Ron was hurriedly scooping up his miniature Krum - the five of us started across the clearing - but before we had taken a few hurried steps, a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding us.

I whirled around, and in an instant, I registered one fact: Each of these wizards had his wand out, and every wand was pointing right at myself, Ron, Hermione, Cedric and Harry.

Harry yelled "DUCK!"

He seized Ron and Hermione, pulled them down onto the ground. Cedric took hold of me, pulled me to the ground and shielded my body with his.

"STUPEFY!" roared twenty voices - there was a blinding series of flashes and I felt the hair on my head ripple as though a powerful wind had swept the clearing. Raising my head a fraction of an inch I saw jets of fiery red light flying over us from the wizards' wands, crossing one another, bouncing off tree trunks, rebounding into the darkness—

"Stop!" yelled a voice he recognized. "STOP! That's my son!"

My hair stopped blowing about. I raised my head a little higher. The wizard in front of me had lowered his wand. Cedric rolled of me and saw Mr. Weasley striding toward us, looking terrified.

"Ron - Harry" - his voice sounded shaky - "Hermione – Aurora- are you all right?"

"Out of the way, Arthur," said a cold, curt voice.

It was Mr. Crouch. He and the other Ministry wizards were closing in on us. Cedric got to his feet and helped me up. Again, he was holding my hand and pulled me close to him. Mr. Crouch's face was taut with rage.

"Which of you did it?" he snapped, his sharp eyes darting between us. "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"

"We didn't do that!" said Harry, gesturing up at the skull.

"We didn't do anything!" said Ron, who was rubbing his elbow and looking indignantly at his father. "What did you want to attack us for?"

"Do not lie, sir!" shouted Mr. Crouch. His wand was still pointing directly at Ron, and his eyes were popping - he looked slightly mad. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

"Barty," whispered a witch in a long woolen dressing gown, "they're kids, Barty, they'd never have been able to."

"Where did the Mark come from, you five?" said Mr. Weasley quickly.

"Over there," said Hermione shakily, pointing at the place where we had heard the voice. "There was someone behind the trees… they shouted words – an incantation -"

"Oh, stood over there, did they?" said Mr. Crouch, turning his popping eyes on Hermione now, disbelief etched all over his face. "Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy -"

But none of the Ministry wizards apart from Mr. Crouch seemed to think it remotely likely that Harry, Ron, Hermione, Cedric or me had conjured the skull; on the contrary, at Hermione's words, they had all raised their wands again and were pointing in the direction she had indicated, squinting through the dark trees.

"We're too late," said the witch in the woolen dressing gown, shaking her head. "They'll have Disapparated."

"I don't think so," said a wizard with a scrubby brown beard. It was Amos Diggory, Cedric's father. "Our Stunners went right through those trees… There's a good chance we got them…"

"Amos, be careful!" said a few of the wizards warningly as Mr. Diggory squared his shoulders, raised his wand, marched across the clearing, and disappeared into the darkness. Cedric tensed and I gave him a small squeeze in his hand. Hermione watched him vanish with her hands over her mouth. A few seconds later, they heard Mr. Diggory shout.

"Yes! We got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's - but - blimey.."

"You've got someone?" shouted Mr. Crouch, sounding highly disbelieving. "Who? Who is it?"

we heard snapping twigs, the rustling of leaves, and then crunching footsteps as Mr. Diggory reemerged from behind the trees. He was carrying a tiny, limp figure in his arms. I recognized the tea towel at once. It was Winky.

Mr. Crouch did not move or speak as Mr. Diggory deposited his elf on the ground at his feet. The other Ministry wizards were all staring at Mr. Crouch. For a few seconds Crouch remained transfixed, his eyes blazing in his white face as he stared down at Winky. Then he appeared to come to life again.

"This - cannot - be," he said jerkily. "No -"

He moved quickly around Mr. Diggory and strode off toward the place where he had found Winky.

"No point, Mr. Crouch," Mr. Diggory called after him. "There's no one else there."

But Mr. Crouch did not seem prepared to take his word for it. They could hear him moving around and the rustling of leaves as he pushed the bushes aside, searching.

"Bit embarrassing," Mr. Diggory said grimly, looking down at Winky's unconscious form. "Barty Crouch's house-elf… I mean to say…"

"Come off it, Amos," said Mr. Weasley quietly, "you don't seriously think it was the elf? The Dark Mark's a wizard's sign. It requires a wand."

"Yeah," said Mr. Diggory, "and she had a wand."

"What?" said Mr. Weasley.

"Here, look." Mr. Diggory held up a wand and showed it to Mr. Weasley. "Had it in her hand. So that's clause three of the Code of Wand Use broken, for a start. No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand."

Just then there was another pop, and Ludo Bagman Apparated right next to Mr. Weasley. Looking breathless and disorientated, he spun on the spot, goggling upward at the emerald-green skull.

"The Dark Mark!" he panted, almost trampling Winky as he turned inquiringly to his colleagues. "Who did it? Did you get them? Barty! What's going on?"

Mr. Crouch had returned empty-handed. His face was still ghostly white, and his hands and his toothbrush mustache were both twitching.

"Where have you been, Barty?" said Bagman. "Why weren't you at the match? Your elf was saving you a seat too - gulping gargoyles!" Bagman had just noticed Winky lying at his feet. "What happened to her?"

"I have been busy, Ludo," said Mr. Crouch, still talking in the same jerky fashion, barely moving his lips. "And my elf has been stunned."

"Stunned? By you lot, you mean? But why -?"

Comprehension dawned suddenly on Bagman's round, shiny face; he looked up at the skull, down at Winky, and then at Mr. Crouch.

"No!" he said. "Winky? Conjure the Dark Mark? She wouldn't know how! She'd need a wand, for a start!"

"And she had one," said Mr. Diggory. "I found her holding one, Ludo. If it's all right with you, Mr. Crouch, I think we should hear what she's got to say for herself."

Crouch gave no sign that he had heard Mr. Diggory, but Mr. Diggory seemed to take his silence for assent. He raised his own wand, pointed it at Winky, and said, "Ennervate!"

Winky stirred feebly. Her great brown eyes opened and she blinked several times in a bemused sort of way. Watched by the silent wizards, she raised herself shakily into a sitting position.

She caught sight of Mr. Diggory's feet, and slowly, tremulously, raised her eyes to stare up into his face; then, more slowly still, she looked up into the sky. I could see the floating skull reflected twice in her enormous, glassy eyes. She gave a gasp, looked wildly around the crowded clearing, and burst into terrified sobs.

"Elf!" said Mr. Diggory sternly. "Do you know who I am? I'm a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!"

Winky began to rock backward and forward on the ground, her breath coming in sharp bursts.

"As you see, elf, the Dark Mark was conjured here a short while ago," said Mr. Diggory. "And you were discovered moments later, right beneath it! An explanation, if you please!"

"I - I - I is not doing it, sir!" Winky gasped. "I is not knowing how, sir!"

"You were found with a wand in your hand!" barked Mr. Diggory, brandishing it in front of her.

"Hey - that's mine!" Harry said

Everyone in the clearing looked at him.

"Excuse me?" said Mr. Diggory, incredulously.

"That's my wand!" said Harry. "I dropped it!"

"You dropped it?" repeated Mr. Diggory in disbelief. "Is this a confession? You threw it aside after you conjured the Mark?"

"Amos, think who you're talking to!" said Mr. Weasley, very angrily. "Is Harry Potter likely to conjure the Dark Mark?"

"Er - of course not," mumbled Mr. Diggory. "Sorry… carried away…"

"I didn't drop it there, anyway," said Harry, jerking his thumb toward the trees beneath the skull. "I missed it right after we got into the wood."

"So," said Mr. Diggory, his eyes hardening as he turned to look at Winky again, cowering at his feet. "You found this wand, eh, elf? And you picked it up and thought you'd have some fun with it, did you?"

"I is not doing magic with it, sir!" squealed Winky, tears streaming down the sides of her squashed and bulbous nose. "I is… I is… I is just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how!"

"It wasn't her!" said Hermione. She looked very nervous, speaking up in front of all these Ministry wizards, yet determined all the same.

"Winky's got a squeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was much deeper!" She looked around at Harry, Ron, Cedric and me appealing for our support. "It didn't sound anything like Winky, did it?"

"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "It definitely didn't sound like an elf."

"Yeah, it was a human voice," said Ron.

"It sounded like a man," I said.

Mr. Diggory looked at me. "Well, well, who have we here. Very suspicious to find you here, Black. Got anything to say?"

"It wasn't her, dad. I've been with her the whole time!" Cedric said to his father.

Mr. Diggory looked at his son and then his eyes found our hands, still clutching the other. He huffed, gave me an angry look and looked at Winky again.

I looked up to Cedric and mouthed Thank you. He gave me a sad smile.

"Well, we'll soon see," growled Mr. Diggory, looking unimpressed. "There's a simple way of discovering the last spell a wand performed, elf, did you know that?"

Winky trembled and shook her head frantically, her ears flapping, as Mr. Diggory raised his own wand again and placed it tip to tip with Harry's.

"Prior Incantato!" roared Mr. Diggory.

I heard Hermione gasp, horrified, as a gigantic serpent-tongued skull erupted from the point where the two wands met, but it was a mere shadow of the green skull high above them; it looked as though it were made of thick gray smoke: the ghost of a spell.

"Deletrius!" Mr. Diggory shouted, and the smoky skull vanished in a wisp of smoke.

"So," said Mr. Diggory with a kind of savage triumph, looking down upon Winky, who was still shaking convulsively.

"I is not doing it!" she squealed, her eyes rolling in terror. "I is not, I is not, I is not knowing how! I is a good elf, I isn't using wands, I isn't knowing how!"

"You've been caught red-handed, elf!" Mr. Diggory roared. "Caught with the guilty wand in your hand!"

"Amos," said Mr. Weasley loudly, "think about it… precious few wizards know how to do that spell… Where would she have learned it?"

"Perhaps Amos is suggesting," said Mr. Crouch, cold anger in every syllable, "that I routinely teach my servants to conjure the Dark Mark?"

There was a deeply unpleasant silence. Amos Diggory looked horrified. "Mr. Crouch… not… not at all."

"You have now come very close to accusing the two people in this clearing who are least likely to conjure that Mark!" barked Mr. Crouch. "Harry Potter – and myself. I suppose you are familiar with the boy's story, Amos?" And ones again, I've been forgotten. They accused me to, but no, I'm not that important.

"Of course - everyone knows -" muttered Mr. Diggory, looking highly discomforted.

"And I trust you remember the many proofs I have given, over a long career, that I despise and detest the Dark Arts and those who practice them?" Mr. Crouch shouted, his eyes bulging again.

"Mr. Crouch, I - I never suggested you had anything to do with it!" Amos Diggory muttered again, now reddening behind his scrubby brown beard.

"If you accuse my elf, you accuse me, Diggory!" shouted Mr. Crouch. "Where else would she have learned to conjure it?"

"She - she might've picked it up anywhere -"

"Precisely, Amos," said Mr. Weasley. "She might have picked it up anywhere… Winky?" he said kindly, turning to the elf, but she flinched as though he too was shouting at her. "Where exactly did you find Harry's wand?"

Winky was twisting the hem of her tea towel so violently that it was fraying beneath her fingers.

"I - I is finding it… finding it there, sir…" she whispered, "there… in the trees, sir."

"You see, Amos?" said Mr. Weasley. "Whoever conjured the Mark could have Disapparated right after they'd done it, leaving Harry's wand behind. A clever thing to do, not using their own wand, which could have betrayed them. And Winky here had the misfortune to come across the wand moments later and pick it up."

"But then, she'd have been only a few feet away from the real culprit!" said Mr. Diggory impatiently. "Elf? Did you see anyone?"

Winky began to tremble worse than ever. Her giant eyes flickered from Mr. Diggory, to Ludo Bagman, and onto Mr. Crouch. Then she gulped and said, "I is seeing no one, sir… no one…"

"Amos," said Mr. Crouch curtly, "I am fully aware that, in the ordinary course of events, you would want to take Winky into your department for questioning. I ask you, however, to allow me to deal with her."

Mr. Diggory looked as though he didn't think much of this suggestion at all, but it was clear to me that Mr. Crouch was such an important member of the Ministry that he did not dare refuse him.

"You may rest assured that she will be punished," Mr. Crouch added coldly.

"M-m-master…" Winky stammered, looking up at Mr. Crouch, her eyes brimming with tears. "M-m-master, p-p-please…"

Mr. Crouch stared back, his face somehow sharpened, each line upon it more deeply etched. There was no pity in his gaze.

"Winky has behaved tonight in a manner I would not have believed possible," he said slowly. "I told her to remain in the tent. I told her to stay there while I went to sort out the trouble. And I find that she disobeyed me. This means clothes."

"No!" shrieked Winky, prostrating herself at Mr. Crouch's feet. "No, master! Not clothes, not clothes!"

I knew that the only way to turn a house-elf free was to present it with proper garments. It was pitiful to see the way Winky clutched at her tea towel as she sobbed over Mr. Crouch's feet.

"But she was frightened!" Hermione burst out angrily, glaring at Mr. Crouch. "Your elf's scared of heights, and those wizards in masks were levitating people! You can't blame her for wanting to get out of their way!"

"Hermione," I said warningly.

Mr. Crouch took a step backward, freeing himself from contact with the elf, whom he was surveying as though she were something filthy and rotten that was contaminating his over-shined shoes.

"I have no use for a house-elf who disobeys me," he said coldly, looking over at Hermione. "I have no use for a servant who forgets what is due to her master, and to her master's reputation."

Winky was crying so hard that her sobs echoed around the clearing. There was a very nasty silence, which was ended by Mr. Weasley, who said quietly, "Well, I think I'll take my lot back to the tent, if nobody's got any objections. Amos, that wand's told us all it can - if Harry could have it back, please -"

Mr. Diggory handed Harry his wand and Harry pocketed it.

"Cedric, let's go! Now!" Mr. Diggory said.

Cedric sighed and turned me around so I could see his face.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. I'll see you on the train, ok?"

"Yes, I'll see you then. Goodbye, Cedric and thank you!" I said.

"See you later, Aurora." He bended down and gave me a kiss on the cheek. He winked at me and walked away. Holding my hand as long as he could. I felt like something was missing from me as I saw him walking away.

"Come on, you four," Mr. Weasley said quietly. But Hermione didn't seem to want to move; her eyes were still upon the sobbing elf. "Hermione!" Mr. Weasley said, more urgently. She turned and followed Harry, Ron and me out of the clearing and off through the trees.

"What's going to happen to Winky?" said Hermione, the moment we had left the clearing.

"I don't know," said Mr. Weasley.

"The way they were treating her!" said Hermione furiously. "Mr. Diggory, calling her 'elf' all the time… and Mr. Crouch! He knows she didn't do it and he's still going to sack her! He didn't care how frightened she'd been, or how upset she was - it was like she wasn't even human!"

"Well, she's not," said Ron.

I rolled my eyes, that boy is so stupid sometimes.

Hermione rounded on him.

"That doesn't mean she hasn't got feelings, Ron. It's disgusting the way -"

"Hermione, I agree with you," said Mr. Weasley quickly, beckoning her on, "but now is not the time to discuss elf rights. I want to get back to the tent as fast as we can. What happened to the others?"

"We lost them in the dark," said Ron. "Dad, why was everyone so uptight about that skull thing?"

"I'll explain everything back at the tent," said Mr. Weasley tensely.

But when we reached the edge of the wood, our progress was impeded. A large crowd of frightened-looking witches and wizards was congregated there, and when they saw Mr. Weasley coming toward them, many of them surged forward.

"What's going on in there?"

"Who conjured it?"

"Arthur - it's not - Him?"

"Of course it's not Him," said Mr. Weasley impatiently. "We don't know who it was; it looks like they Disapparated. Now excuse me, please, I want to get to bed."

He led Harry, Ron, Hermione and me through the crowd and back into the campsite.

All was quiet now; there was no sign of the masked wizards, though several ruined tents were still smoking.

Charlie's head was poking out of the boys' tent.

"Dad, what's going on?" he called through the dark. "Fred, George, and Ginny got back okay, but the others -"

"I've got them here," said Mr. Weasley, bending down and entering the tent. Harry, Ron, Hermione and me entered after him.

Bill was sitting at the small kitchen table, holding a bedsheet to his arm, which was bleeding profusely. Charlie had a large rip in his shirt, and Percy was sporting a bloody nose. Fred, George, and Ginny looked unhurt, though shaken.

"Did you get them, Dad?" said Bill sharply. "The person who conjured the Mark?"

"No," said Mr. Weasley. "We found Barry Crouch's elf holding Harry's wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark."

"What?" said Bill, Charlie, and Percy together.

"Harry's wand?" said Fred.

"Mr. Crouch's elf" said Percy, sounding thunderstruck.

With some assistance from Harry, Ron, Hermione and me, Mr. Weasley explained what had happened in the woods. When we had finished our story, Percy swelled indignantly.

"Well, Mr. Crouch is quite right to get rid of an elf like that!" he said. "Running away when he'd expressly told her not to… embarrassing him in front of the whole Ministry… how would that have looked, if she'd been brought up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control"

"She didn't do anything - she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Hermione snapped at Percy, who looked very taken aback. Hermione had always got on fairly well with Percy - better, indeed, than any of the others.

"Hermione, a wizard in Mr. Crouch's position can't afford a house-elf who's going to run amok with a wand!" said Percy pompously, recovering himself.

"She didn't run amok!" shouted Hermione. "She just picked it up off the ground!"

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" said Ron impatiently. "It wasn't hurting anyone… Why's it such a big deal?"

"I told you, it's Voldemort's symbol, Ron," I said, before anyone else could answer. "Uncle Moony told me all about it." When I said the name, shudders went to the lot of them. cowards, at least Harry isn't one. I bet Cedric isn't one either.

"And it hasn't been seen for thirteen years," said Mr. Weasley quietly. "Of course people panicked… it was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again."

"I don't get it," said Ron, frowning. "I mean… it's still only a shape in the sky…"

"Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed," said Mr. Weasley. "The terror it inspired… you have no idea, you're too young. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, and knowing what you're about to find inside…" Mr. Weasley winced. "Everyone's worst fear… the very worst."

There was silence for a moment. Then Bill, removing the sheet from his arm to check on his cut, said, "Well, it didn't help us tonight, whoever conjured it. It scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw it. They all Disapparated before we'd got near enough to unmask any of them. We caught the Robertses before they hit the ground, though. They're having their memories modified right now."

"Death Eaters?" said Harry. "What are Death Eaters?"

"It's what You-Know-Who's supporters called themselves," said Bill. "I think we saw what's left of them tonight - the ones who managed to keep themselves out of Azkaban, anyway."

"We can't prove it was them, Bill," said Mr. Weasley. "Though it probably was," he added hopelessly.

"Yeah, I bet it was!" said Ron suddenly. "Dad, we met Draco Malfoy in the woods, and he as good as told us his dad was one of those nutters in masks! And we all know the Malfoys were right in with You-Know-Who!"

"But what were Voldemort's supporters -" Harry began. Everybody flinched. "Sorry," said Harry quickly. "What were You-Know-Who's supporters up to, levitating Muggles? I mean, what was the point?"

"The point?" said Mr. Weasley with a hollow laugh. "Harry, that's their idea of fun. Half the Muggle killings back when You-Know-Who was in power were done for fun. I suppose they had a few drinks tonight and couldn't resist reminding us all that lots of them are still at large. A nice little reunion for them," he finished disgustedly.

"But if they were the Death Eaters, why did they Disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark?" said Ron. "They'd have been pleased to see it, wouldn't they?"

"Use your brains, Ron," said Bill. "If they really were Death Eaters, they worked very hard to keep out of Azkaban when You-Know-Who lost power, and told all sorts of lies about him forcing them to kill and torture people. I bet they'd be even more frightened than the rest of us to see him come back.

They denied they'd ever been involved with him when he lost his powers, and went back to their daily lives… I don't reckon he'd be over-pleased with them, do you?"

"So… whoever conjured the Dark Mark…" said Hermione slowly, "were they doing it to show support for the Death Eaters, or to scare them away?"

"Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione," said Mr. Weasley. "But I'll tell you this… it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I'd be very surprised if the person who did it hadn't been a Death Eater once, even if they're not now… Listen, it's very late, and if your mother hears what's happened she'll be worried sick. We'll get a few more hours sleep and then try and get an early Portkey out of here."

I got back into my bunk with my head buzzing. I knew I ought to feel exhausted: It was nearly three in the morning, but I felt wide-awake – wide awake, and worried.

What did this all mean? And why was Cedric acting like this? And what was I feeling about it? It took me some time to fall asleep. Too much thoughts.

**A/N: I'm sorry it took so long to update, but I wasn't very happy with the chapter. And my computer had a breakdown so I had to start all over. Terribly sorry!**

**Please tell me what you think, it would make me very happy **


	6. Mayhem at the Ministry

**A/N: I don't own anything!**

**Chapter 6: Mayhem at the Ministry**

Mr. Weasley woke us after only a few hours' sleep. He used magic to pack up the tents, and we left the campsite as quickly as possible, passing Mr. Roberts at the door of his cottage. Mr. Roberts had a strange, dazed look about him, and he waved them off with a vague "Happy Christmas."

"He'll be all right," said Mr. Weasley quietly as we marched off onto the moor. "Sometimes, when a person's memory's modified, it makes him a bit disorientated for a while… and that was a big thing they had to make him forget."

We heard urgent voices as we approached the spot where the Portkeys lay, and when we reached it, we found a great number of witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of the Portkeys, all clamoring to get away from the campsite as quickly as possible. Mr. Weasley had a hurried discussion with Basil; we joined the queue, and were able to take an old rubber tire back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen. We walked back through Ottery St. Catchpole and up the damp lane toward the Burrow in the dawn light, talking very little because we were so exhausted, and thinking longingly of our breakfast. As we rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the lane.

"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!"

Mrs. Weasley, who had evidently been waiting for us in the front yard, came running toward us, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hand.

"Arthur - I've been so worried - so worried-"

She flung her arms around Mr. Weasley's neck, and the Daily Prophet fell out of her limp hand onto the ground. Looking down, I saw the headline: SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP, complete with a twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.

"You're all right," Mrs. Weasley muttered distractedly, releasing Mr. Weasley and staring around at us all with red eyes, "you're alive… Oh boys…" And to everybody's surprise, she seized Fred and George and pulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads banged together.

"Ouch! Mum - you're strangling us -"

"I shouted at you before you left!" Mrs. Weasley said, starting to sob. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough OW.L.s? Oh Fred… George…"

"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," said Mr. Weasley soothingly, prising her off the twins and leading her back toward the house. "Bill," he added in an undertone, "pick up that paper, I want to see what it says…"

When we were all crammed into the tiny kitchen, and Hermione had made Mrs. Weasley a cup of very strong tea, into which Mr. Weasley insisted on pouring a shot of Ogdens Old Firewhiskey, Bill handed his father the newspaper. Mr. Weasley scanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder.

"I knew it," said Mr. Weasley heavily. "Ministry blunders… culprits not apprehended… lax security… Dark wizards running unchecked… national disgrace… Who wrote this? Ah… of course… Rita Skeeter."

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" said Percy furiously. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans —"

"Do us a favor, Perce," said Bill, yawning, "and shut up."

"I'm mentioned," said Mr. Weasley, his eyes widening behind his glasses as he reached the bottom of the Daily Prophet article.

"Where?" spluttered Mrs. Weasley, choking on her tea and whiskey. "If I'd seen that, I'd have known you were alive!"

"Not by name," said Mr. Weasley. "Listen to this: 'If the terrified wizards and witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to quash the rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be seen.' Oh really," said Mr. Weasley in exasperation, handing the paper to Percy. "Nobody was hurt. What was I supposed to say? Rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods… well, there certainly will be rumors now she's printed that."

He heaved a deep sigh. "Molly, I'm going to have to go into the office; this is going to take some smoothing over."

"I'll come with you, Father," said Percy importantly. "Mr. Crouch will need all hands on deck. And I can give him my cauldron report in person."

He bustled out of the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley looked most upset. "Arthur, you're supposed to be on holiday! This hasn't got anything to do with your office; surely they can handle this without you?"

"I've got to go, Molly," said Mr. Weasley. "I've made things worse. I'll just change into my robes and I'll be off…"

"Mrs. Weasley," said Harry suddenly, "Hedwig hasn't arrived with a letter for me, has she?"

"Hedwig, dear?" said Mrs. Weasley distractedly. "No… no, there hasn't been any post at all."

Ron, Hermione and me looked curiously at Harry. With a meaningful look at the three of us he said, "All right if I go and dump my stuff in your room, Ron?"

"Yeah… think I will too," said Ron at once. "Hermione? Aurora?"

"Yes," Hermione and me said quickly, and the four of us marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"What's up, Harry?" said Ron, the moment we had closed the door of the attic room behind us.

"There's something I haven't told you," Harry said. "On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again."

Hermione gasped and started making suggestions at once, mentioning a number of reference books, and everybody from Albus Dumbledore to Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse. Ron simply looked dumbstruck.

"But - he wasn't there, was he? You-Know-Who? I mean - last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?"

"I'm sure he wasn't on Privet Drive," said Harry. "But I was dreaming about him… him and Peter - you know, Wormtail. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill… someone."

I looked closely at him. I know he was supposed say me. I get his reasons not so say it. He doesn't want to scare us, but still, we aren't babies anymore.

"It was only a dream," said Ron bracingly. "Just a nightmare."

"Yeah, but was it, though?" said Harry, turning to look out of the window at the brightening sky. "It's weird, isn't it…? My scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again."

"Don't - say - his - name!" Ron hissed through gritted teeth.

"Oh, grow up!" I said.

"And remember what Professor Trelawney said?" Harry went on, ignoring Ron and me. "At the end of last year?"

Professor Trelawney was our Divination teacher at Hogwarts. Hermione's terrified look vanished as she let out a derisive snort.

"Oh Harry, you aren't going to pay attention to anything that old fraud says?"

"You weren't there," I said. "You didn't hear her. This time was different. I told you, she went into a trance - a real one. And she said the Dark Lord would rise again… greater and more terrible than ever before… and he'd manage it because his servant was going to go back to him… and that night Wormtail escaped."

There was a silence in which Ron fidgeted absentmindedly with a hole in his Chudley Cannons bedspread.

"Why were you asking if Hedwig had come, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Are you expecting a letter?"

"I told Sirius about my scar," said Harry, shrugging. "I'm waiting for his answer."

"Good thinking!" said Ron, his expression clearing. "I bet Sirius'll know what to do!"

"I hoped he'd get back to me quickly," said Harry.

"But we don't know where Sirius is… he could be in Africa or somewhere, couldn't he?" said Hermione reasonably. "Hedwig's not going to manage that journey in a few days."

"yeah, it always take some time. I don't get an answer right away, usually there are some days between it. But I'm sure he isn't in Africa. Dad isn't going to like it there. Not enough food," I said.

"Come and have a game of Quidditch in the orchard, Harry" said Ron. "Come on - three on three, Bill and Charlie and Fred and George will play… You can try out the Wronski Feint… "

"Ron," said Hermione, in an I-don't-think-you're-being-very-sensitive sort of voice, "Harry doesn't want to play Quidditch right now… He's worried, and he's tired… We all need to go to bed…"

"Yeah, I want to play Quidditch," said Harry suddenly. "Hang on, I'll get my Firebolt."

Hermione left the room, muttering something that sounded very much like "Boys."

"I'm coming to!" I said. And I went to get my Firebolt.

Neither Mr. Weasley nor Percy was at home much over the following week. Both left the house each morning before the rest of the family got up, and returned well after dinner every night.

"It's been an absolute uproar," Percy told us importantly the Sunday evening before we were due to return to Hogwarts. "I've been putting out fires all week. People keep sending Howlers, and of course, if you don't open a Howler straight away, it explodes. Scorch marks all over my desk and my best quill reduced to cinders."

"Why are they all sending Howlers?" asked Ginny, who was mending her copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi with Spellotape on the rug in front of the living room fire.

"Complaining about security at the World Cup," said Percy. "They want compensation for their ruined property. Mundungus Fletcher's put in a claim for a twelve-bedroomed tent with en-suite Jacuzzi, but I've got his number. I know for a fact he was sleeping under a cloak propped on sticks."

Mrs. Weasley glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. I liked this clock. It was completely useless if you wanted to know the time, but otherwise very informative. It had nine golden hands, and each of them was engraved with one of the Weasley family's names. There were no numerals around the face, but descriptions of where each family member might be. "Home," "school," and "work" were there, but there was also "traveling," "lost," "hospital," "prison," and, in the position where the number twelve would be on a normal clock, "mortal peril." Eight of the hands were currently pointing to the "home" position, but Mr. Weasley's, which was the longest, was still pointing to "work." Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"Your father hasn't had to go into the office on weekends since the days of You- Know-Who," she said. "They're working him far too hard. His dinner's going to be ruined if he doesn't come home soon."

"Well, Father feels he's got to make up for his mistake at the match, doesn't he?" said Percy. "If truth be told, he was a tad unwise to make a public statement without clearing it with his Head of Department first -"

"Don't you dare blame your father for what that wretched Skeeter woman wrote!" said Mrs. Weasley, flaring up at once.

"If Dad hadn't said anything, old Rita would just have said it was disgraceful that nobody from the Ministry had commented," said Bill, who was playing chess with Ron.

"Rita Skeeter never makes anyone look good. Remember, she interviewed all the Gringotts' Charm Breakers once, and called me 'a long-haired pillock'?"

"Well, it is a bit long, dear," said Mrs. Weasley gently. "If you'd just let me -"

"No, Mum."

Rain lashed against the living room window. Hermione was immersed in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, copies of which Mrs. Weasley had bought for her, Harry, Ron and me in Diagon Alley. Charlie was darning a fireproof balaclava. Harry was polishing his Firebolt, the broomstick servicing kit Hermione had given him for his thirteenth birthday open at his feet. I was reading in the book that Hermione gave me last year with Christmas. Fred and George were sitting in a far corner, quills out, talking in whispers, their heads bent over a piece of parchment.

"What are you two up to?" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, her eyes on the twins.

"Homework," said Fred vaguely.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're still on holiday," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Yeah, we've left it a bit late," said George.

"You're not by any chance writing out a new order form, are you?" said Mrs. Weasley shrewdly. "You wouldn't be thinking of restarting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, by any chance?"

"Now, Mum," said Fred, looking up at her, a pained look on his face. "If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?"

Everyone laughed, even Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh your father's coming!" she said suddenly, looking up at the clock again.

Mr. Weasley's hand had suddenly spun from "work" to "traveling"; a second later it had shuddered to a halt on "home" with the others, and we heard him calling from the kitchen.

"Coming, Arthur!" called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying out of the room. A few moments later, Mr. Weasley came into the warm living room carrying his dinner on a tray. He looked completely exhausted.

"Well, the fat's really in the fire now," he told Mrs. Weasley as he sat down in an armchair near the hearth and toyed unenthusiastically with his somewhat shriveled cauliflower. "Rita Skeeter's been ferreting around all week, looking for more Ministry mess-ups to report. And now she's found out about poor old Bertha going missing, so that'll be the headline in the Prophet tomorrow. I told Bagman he should have sent someone to look for her ages ago."

"Mr. Crouch has been saying it for weeks and weeks," said Percy swiftly.

"Crouch is very lucky Rita hasn't found out about Winky," said Mr. Weasley irritably. "There'd be a week's worth of headlines in his house-elf being caught holding the wand that conjured the Dark Mark."

"I thought we were all agreed that that elf, while irresponsible, did not conjure the Mark?" said Percy hotly.

"If you ask me, Mr. Crouch is very lucky no one at the Daily Prophet knows how mean he is to elves!" said Hermione angrily.

"Now look here, Hermione!" said Percy. "A high-ranking Ministry official like Mr. Crouch deserves unswerving obedience from his servants -"

"His slave, you mean!" said Hermione, her voice rising passionately, "because he didn't pay Winky, did he?"

"I think you'd all better go upstairs and check that you've packed properly!" said Mrs. Weasley, breaking up the argument. "Come on now, all of you…"

I closed my book, Harry repacked his broomstick servicing kit, put his Firebolt over his shoulder, and went back upstairs with Ron and me. The rain sounded even louder at the top of the house, accompanied by loud whistling and moans from the wind, not to mention sporadic howls from the ghoul who lived in the attic. Pigwidgeon began twittering and zooming around his cage when we entered. The sight of the half-packed trunks seemed to have sent him into a frenzy of excitement.

"Bung him some Owl Treats," said Ron, throwing a packet across to me. "It might shut him up."

I poked a few Owl Treats through the bars of Pigwidgeon's cage, then turned to the trunks. Hedwig's cage stood next to the one from Harry, still empty.

"It's been over a week," Harry said, looking at Hedwig's deserted perch. "Aurora, you don't reckon Sirius has been caught, do you?"

"Nah, it would've been in the Daily Prophet," said Ron. "The Ministry would want to show they'd caught someone, wouldn't they?"

"He asked me! No, I don't think so, uncle moony would have said something."

"Yeah, I suppose…"

"Look, here's the stuff Mum got for you in Diagon Alley. And she's got some gold out of your vault for you… and she's washed all your socks." Ron said.

He heaved a pile of parcels onto Harry's camp bed and dropped the money bag and a load of socks next to it. Harry started unwrapping the shopping. Apart from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, by Miranda Goshawk, he had a handful of new quills, a dozen rolls of parchment, and refills for his potion-making kit. He was just piling underwear into his cauldron when Ron made a loud noise of disgust behind Harry.

"What is that supposed to be?"

He was holding up something that looked to me like a long, maroon velvet dress. It had a moldy-looking lace frill at the collar and matching lace cuffs. I started giggling.

There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Weasley entered, carrying an armful of freshly laundered Hogwarts robes.

"Here you are," she said, sorting them into two piles. "Now, mind you pack them properly so they don't crease."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley, I'll keep an eye out," I said smiling.

"Mum, you've given me Ginny's new dress," said Ron, handing it out to her.

"Of course I haven't," said Mrs. Weasley. "That's for you. Dress robes."

"What?" said Ron, looking horror-struck. I started to giggle louder.

"Dress robes!" repeated Mrs. Weasley. "It says on your school list that you're supposed to have dress robes this year… robes for formal occasions."

"You've got to be kidding," said Ron in disbelief. "I'm not wearing that, no way."

"Everyone wears them, Ron!" said Mrs. Weasley crossly. "They're all like that! Your father's got some for smart parties!"

"I'll go starkers before I put that on," said Ron stubbornly.

"Don't be so silly," said Mrs. Weasley. "You've got to have dress robes, they're on your list! I got some for Harry too… show him, Harry…"

Those from Harry weren't bad at all. They were more or less the same as his school ones, except that they were bottle green instead of black.

"I thought they'd bring out the color of your eyes, dear," said Mrs. Weasley fondly.

"Well, they're okay!" said Ron angrily, looking at Harry's robes. "Why couldn't I have some like that?"

"Because… well, I had to get yours secondhand, and there wasn't a lot of choice!" said Mrs. Weasley, flushing.

"I'm never wearing them," Ron was saying stubbornly. "Never."

"Fine," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "Go naked. And, Harry, make sure you get a picture of him. Goodness knows I could do with a laugh."

She left the room, slamming the door behind her. There was a funny spluttering noise from behind them. Pigwidgeon was choking on an overlarge Owl Treat.

"Why is everything I own rubbish?" said Ron furiously, striding across the room to unstick Pigwidgeon's beak.

That stopped my laughing at once.

**A/N: A short chapter after a very long one. **

**Tell me what you think!**


	7. Aboard the Hogwarts Express

**A/N: I don't own anything!**

**Chapter 7: Aboard the Hogwart Express**

There was a definite end-of-the-holidays gloom in the air when I awoke next morning. Heavy rain was still splattering against the window as I got dressed in jeans, a T-shirt (red) and a black pull; we would change into our school robes on the Hogwarts Express.

Harry, Ron, Fred, George and me had just reached the first-floor landing on our way down to breakfast, when Mrs. Weasley appeared at the foot of the stairs, looking harassed.

"Arthur!" she called up the staircase. "Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry!"

I flattened myself against the wall as Mr. Weasley came clattering past with his robes on back-to-front and hurtled out of sight. When the others and me entered the kitchen, we saw Mrs. Weasley rummaging anxiously in the drawers –

"I've got a quill here somewhere!" - and Mr. Weasley bending over the fire, talking to Mr. Diggory.

"… Muggle neighbors heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those what-d'you-call-'ems - please-men. Arthur, you've got to get over there —"

"Here!" said Mrs. Weasley breathlessly, pushing a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a crumpled quill into Mr. Weasley's hands.

"- it's a real stroke of luck I heard about it," said Mr. Diggory's head. "I had to come into the office early to send a couple of owls, and I found the Improper Use of Magic lot all setting off — if Rita Skeeter gets hold of this one, Arthur —"

"What does Mad-Eye say happened?" asked Mr. Weasley, unscrewing the ink bottle, loading up his quill, and preparing to take notes.

Mr. Diggory's head rolled its eyes. "Says he heard an intruder in his yard. Says he was creeping toward the house, but was ambushed by his dustbins."

"What did the dustbins do?" asked Mr. Weasley, scribbling frantically.

"Made one hell of a noise and fired rubbish everywhere, as far as I can tell," said Mr. Diggory. "Apparently one of them was still rocketing around when the pleasemen turned up -"

Mr. Weasley groaned.

"And what about the intruder?"

"Arthur, you know Mad-Eye," said Mr. Diggory's head, rolling its eyes again. "Someone creeping into his yard in the dead of night? More likely there's a very shell-shocked cat wandering around somewhere, covered in potato peelings. But if the Improper Use of Magic lot get their hands on Mad-Eye, he's had it — think of his record — we've got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department — what are exploding dustbins worth?"

"Might be a caution," said Mr. Weasley, still writing very fast, his brow furrowed. "Mad-Eye didn't use his wand? He didn't actually attack anyone?"

"I'll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he could reach through the window," said Mr. Diggory, "but they'll have a job proving it, there aren't any casualties."

"All right, I'm off," Mr. Weasley said, and he stuffed the parchment with his notes on it into his pocket and dashed out of the kitchen again.

Mr. Diggory's head looked around at Mrs. Weasley.

"Sorry about this, Molly," it said, more calmly, "bothering you so early and everything… but Arthur's the only one who can get Mad-Eye off, and Mad-Eye's supposed to be starting his new job today. Why he had to choose last night…"

"Never mind, Amos," said Mrs. Weasley. "Sure you won't have a bit of toast or anything before you go?"

"Oh go on, then," said Mr. Diggory.

Mrs. Weasley took a piece of buttered toast from a stack on the kitchen table, put it into the fire tongs, and transferred it into Mr. Diggory's mouth. "Fanks," he said in a muffled voice, and then, with a small pop, vanished.

I could hear Mr. Weasley calling hurried good-byes to Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the other girls. Within five minutes, he was back in the kitchen, his robes on the right way now, dragging a comb through his hair.

"I'd better hurry - you have a good term, boys, Aurora" said Mr. Weasley to Harry, Ron, the twins and me, fastening a cloak over his shoulders and preparing to Disapparate.

"Molly, are you going to be all right taking the kids to King's Cross?"

"Of course I will," she said. "You just look after Mad-Eye, we'll be fine."

As Mr. Weasley vanished, Bill and Charlie entered the kitchen.

"Did someone say Mad-Eye?" Bill asked. "What's he been up to now."

"He says someone tried to break into his house last night," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Mad-Eye Moody?" said George thoughtfully, spreading marmalade on his toast. "Isn't he that nutter -"

"Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody," said Mrs. Weasley sternly.

"Yeah, well, Dad collects plugs, doesn't he?" said Fred quietly as Mrs. Weasley left the room. "Birds of a feather…"

"Moody was a great wizard in his time," said Bill.

"He's an old friend of Dumbledore's, isn't he?" said Charlie.

"Dumbledore's not what you'd call normal, though, is he?" said Fred. "I mean, I know he's a genius and everything…"

"Who is Mad-Eye?" asked Harry.

"He's retired, used to work at the Ministry," said Charlie. "I met him once when Dad took me into work with him. He was an Auror - one of the best… a Dark wizard catcher," he added, seeing Harry's blank look "Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him. He made himself loads of enemies, though… the families of people he caught, mainly… and I heard he's been getting really paranoid in his old age. Doesn't trust anyone anymore. Sees Dark wizards everywhere."

Bill and Charlie decided to come and see everyone off at King's Cross station, but Percy, apologizing most profusely, said that he really needed to get to work.

"I just can't justify taking more time off at the moment," he told them. "Mr. Crouch is really starting to rely on me."

"Yeah, you know what, Percy?" said George seriously. "I reckon he'll know your name soon."

Mrs. Weasley had braved the telephone in the village post office to order three ordinary Muggle taxis to take them into London.

"Arthur tried to borrow Ministry cars for us," Mrs. Weasley whispered to me as we stood in the rain-washed yard, watching the taxi drivers heaving seven heavy Hogwarts trunks into their cars. "But there weren't any to spare… Oh dear, they don't look happy, do they?"

I didn't like to tell Mrs. Weasley that Muggle taxi drivers rarely transported overexcited owls, and Pigwidgeon was making an earsplitting racket. Nor did it help that a number of Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks went off unexpectedly when Fred's trunk sprang open, causing the driver carrying it to yell with fright and pain as Crookshanks clawed his way up the man's leg. Thank god, uncle Moony taught me everything he knew about the Muggle world.

The journey was uncomfortable, owing to the fact that we were jammed in the back of the taxis with our trunks. Crookshanks took quite a while to recover from the fireworks, and by the time we entered London, Harry, Hermione and me were all severely scratched (Ron sat with the twins). We were very relieved to get out at King's Cross, even though the rain was coming down harder than ever, and we got soaked carrying ourr trunks across the busy road and into the station.

Last year was the first time I used the barrier to get onto platform nine and three-quarters. It was a simple matter of walking straight through the apparently solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. The only tricky part was doing this in an unobtrusive way, so as to avoid attracting Muggle attention. We did it in groups today; Harry, Ron, and Hermione (the most conspicuous, since they were accompanied by Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks) went first; they leaned casually against the barrier, chatting unconcernedly, and slid sideways through it… The twins and me were next. We leaned against it and slid through and as we did so, platform nine and three-quarters materialized in front of us.

The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already there, clouds of steam billowing from it, through which the many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appeared like dark ghosts. Pigwidgeon became noisier than ever in response to the hooting of many owls through the mist. Harry, Ron, Hermione and me set off to find seats, and were soon stowing our luggage in a compartment halfway along the train. We then hopped back down onto the platform to say good-bye to Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie.

"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye.

"Why?" said Fred keenly.

"You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it… it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."

"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.

"Why?" said George impatiently.

"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it."

"A bit of what?" said Ron.

But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley chivvied us toward the train doors. I quickly hugged Charlie and Bill. Spending time with them really helped and we became friends.

"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as we climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her.

"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry.

"It was really nice! Thank you for letting me stay!" I said.

"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but… well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with… one thing and another."

"Mum!" said Ron irritably. "What d'you three know that we don't?"

"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting - mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules -"

"What rules?" said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together.

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you… Now, behave, won't you? Won't you, Fred? And you, George?"

The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to move.

"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away from them. "What rules are they changing?"

But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved. Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and me went back to our compartment.

The thick rain splattering the windows made it very difficult to see out of them. Ron undid his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robes, and flung them over Pigwidgeon's cage to muffle his hooting.

"Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he said grumpily, sitting down next to Harry. "At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother won't say. Wonder what —"

"Shh!" Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to ours. Harry, Ron and me listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door.

"… Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do…"

Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's voice.

"So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?" she said angrily. "I wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."

"Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" said Harry.

"Yes," said Hermione sniffily, "and it's got a horrible reputation. According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts."

"I think I've heard of it," said Ron vaguely. "Where is it? What country?"

"Well, nobody knows, do they?" said Hermione, raising her eyebrows.

"Er - why not?" said Harry.

"There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets," I said.

"Come off it," said Ron, starting to laugh. "Durmstrang's got to be about the same size as Hogwarts — how are you going to hide a great big castle?"

"But Hogwarts is hidden," said Hermione, in surprise. "Everyone knows that… well, everyone who's read Hogwarts, A History, anyway."

"Just you, then," said Ron.

"And me!" I said.

"So go on - how d'you hide a place like Hogwarts?"

"It's bewitched," I said. "If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a moldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE."

"So Durmstrang'll just look like a ruin to an outsider too?"

"Maybe," I said, shrugging, "or it might have Muggle-repelling charms on it, like the World Cup stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they'll have made it Unplottable -"

"Come again?"

"Well, you can enchant a building so it's impossible to plot on a map, can't you?"

"Er… if you say so," said Harry. I rolled my eyes, did this boy know nothing?

"But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Somewhere very cold, because they've got fur capes as part of their uniforms."

"Ah, think of the possibilities," said Ron dreamily. "It would've been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident… Shame his mother likes him…"

The rain became heavier and heavier as the train moved farther north. The sky was so dark and the windows so steamy that the lanterns were lit by midday. The lunch trolley came rattling along the corridor, and Harry bought a large stack of Cauldron Cakes for us to share.

Several of our friends (or should I say, friends of the others, some don't like me) looked in on us as the afternoon progressed, including Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom, a round-faced, extremely forgetful boy who had been brought up by his formidable witch of a grandmother. At least he considered me as a friend.

Seamus was still wearing his Ireland rosette. Some of its magic seemed to be wearing off now; it was still squeaking "Troy - Mullet - Moran!" but in a very feeble and exhausted sort of way. After half an hour or so, Hermione, growing tired of the endless Quidditch talk, buried herself once more in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, and started trying to learn a Summoning Charm.

Neville listened jealously to the others' conversation as we relived the Cup match.

"Gran didn't want to go," he said miserably. "Wouldn't buy tickets. It sounded amazing though."

"It was," said Ron. "Look at this, Neville…" He rummaged in his trunk up in the luggage rack and pulled out the miniature figure of Viktor Krum.

"Oh wow," said Neville enviously as Ron tipped Krum onto his pudgy hand.

"We saw him right up close, as well," said Ron. "We were in the Top Box -"

"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley."

Draco Malfoy had appeared in the doorway. Behind him stood Crabbe and Goyle, his enormous, thuggish cronies, both of whom appeared to have grown at least a foot during the summer. Evidently they had overheard the conversation through the compartment door, which Dean and Seamus had left ajar.

"Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," said Harry coolly.

"Weasley… what is that?" said Malfoy, pointing at Pigwidgeon's cage. A sleeve of Ron's dress robes was dangling from it, swaying with the motion of the train, the moldy lace cuff very obvious.

Ron made to stuff the robes out of sight, but Malfoy was too quick for him; he seized the sleeve and pulled.

"Look at this!" said Malfoy in ecstasy, holding up Ron's robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle, "Weasley, you weren't thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean - they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety…"

"Eat dung, Malfoy!" said Ron, the same color as the dress robes as he snatched them back out of Malfoy's grip. Malfoy howled with derisive laughter; Crabbe and Goyle guffawed stupidly.

"So… going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know… you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won…"

"What are you talking about?" snapped Ron.

"Are you going to enter?" Malfoy repeated. "I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?"

"Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy," said Hermione testily, over the top of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4.

A gleeful smile spread across Malfoy's pale face

"Don't tell me you don't know?" he said delightedly. "You've got a father and brother at the Ministry and you don't even know? My God, my father told me about it ages ago… heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry… Maybe your father's too junior to know about it, Weasley… yes… they probably don't talk about important stuff in front of him…"

"Go bother someone who cares! Now sod off! Or would you like to be my new punch bag? I practiced my swing over the summer, learned a few things. So what do you say?" I asked with a smirk.

Sneering at me, Malfoy beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle, and the three of them disappeared.

Ron got to his feet and slammed the sliding compartment door so hard behind them that the glass shattered.

"Ron!" said Hermione reproachfully, and she pulled out her wand, muttered "Reparo!" and the glass shards flew back into a single pane and back into the door.

"Well… making it look like he knows everything and we don't…" Ron snarled. "'Father's always associated with the top peopie at the Ministry'… Dad could've got a promotion any time… he just likes it where he is…"

"Of course he does," said Hermione quietly. "Don't let Malfoy get to you, Ron -"

"Him! Get to me! As if!" said Ron, picking up one of the remaining Cauldron Cakes and squashing it into a pulp.

A knock was heard on the door and it slide open. It was Cedric. He nodded to everyone and gave me a smile.

"Aurora, can we talk? Alone?" he asked.

Hermione looked at me with a knowing smile. I smiled at her and stood up.

"Sure, let's go," I said.

We left the compartment and went to stand at the end. He took my hand in his again and smiled at me.

"How was the rest of your summer?" he asked me.

"Fun, how was yours? Did your father gave you a hard time?"

"Could have been better, didn't see my father a lot so I had nothing to worry about." He shrugged.

I smiled at him. I was wondering one thing, why was he even here? Why was he holding my hand? Why was he interested in me, a fourth year? The daughter of a 'murderer'? okay, so I was wondering more than one thing.

I asked him this and smiled at me.

"I watched you last year. You intrigued me. I was wondering who you are. I knew you were the daughter of Black, but somehow I didn't believe you were bad to, like everyone else thought. I wanted to know you, the real you. When Black attacked the school and everyone hated you even more, I thought that you would go insane. But you amazed me. You walked around the school with your head high. Not taking any crap. I admired you. You are also beautiful, smart, funny, caring, and a lot more but I still have to see those. Oh, and I don't care about age!" he said, winking at me.

I stared at him. "So what now? I mean, you can't be in love with me right? You barely know me and …"

He cut me off. "True, I barely know you, but as you know, you can't fight your feelings. But your right, I'm not in love with you, but I do have a little crush on you."

Again I stared at him, this time with my mouth open. He chuckled and I blushed. I quickly closed my mouth. Real smooth, Aurora, very ladylike.

"So what now?" I asked again.

"Now we get to know eachother. It's obvious that you don't feel the same way. At least not right now." He said winking. Again with the winking.

"I never really giving it much thought, because it seemed so unreal you would like me. But I really would like to get to know you better!" I smiled, "And who knows, maybe in the future …"

"That's all I'm asking for," he smiled at me. "You better go back. We're almost there and I guess your friends are waiting for you."

"Ok, so I see you later then?" I asked.

He raised me hand and kissed it, looking me in the eye. "Until later!"

I was blushing again when I walked back to the others, but before I could get far, Cedric grabbed me hand again, turned and brushed his lips softly to mine. Before I could register and respond to what he has done, he was already halfway the train. He turned around before he slid in his compartment and winked at me. That cheeky bastard! My hand was trembling when I brought my fingers to my lips. Had he really kissed me?

I walked back to the others. I slid in and went to sit next to Hermione. She raised her eyebrows, clearly asking what happened. I think I'm looking a little red and dazzled and … I just shaked my head and mouthed later to her. She smiled at me and left it with that. I looked to the others and saw that Ron was still in a bad mood and Harry was looking at me strangely. You ok? He mouthed. I nodded and smiled at him.

Ron's bad mood continued for the rest of the journey. He didn't talk much as we changed into our school robes, and was still glowering when the Hogwarts Express slowed down at last and finally stopped in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station.

As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. Hermione bundled up Crookshanks in her cloak and Ron left his dress robes over Pigwidgeon as we left the train, heads bent and eyes narrowed against the downpour. The rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it was as though buckets of ice-cold water were being emptied repeatedly over our heads.

"Hi, Hagrid!" Harry yelled, seeing a gigantic silhouette at the far end of the platform.

"All righ', Harry?" Hagrid bellowed back, waving. "See yeh at the feast if we don' drown!"

First years traditionally reached Hogwarts Castle by sailing across the lake with Hagrid.

"Oooh, I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather," said Hermione fervently, shivering as we inched slowly along the dark platform with the rest of the crowd. A hundred carriages stood waiting for us outside the station. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and me climbed gratefully into one of them, the door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up the track toward Hogwarts Castle.

**A/N: So tell me what you think! **


	8. The Triwizard Tournament

**A/N: I don't own anything**

**Chapter 8: The Triwizard Tournament**

Through the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, and up the sweeping drive the carriages trundled, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Leaning against the window, I could see Hogwarts coming nearer, its many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain. Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. People who had occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and me jumped down from our carriage and dashed up the steps too, looking up only when we were safely inside the cavernous, torch-lit entrance hall, with its magnificent marble staircase.

"Blimey," said Ron, shaking his head and sending water everywhere, "if that keeps up the lake's going to overflow. I'm soak - ARRGH!"

A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Ron's head and exploded. Drenched and sputtering, Ron staggered sideways into Harry, just as a second water bomb dropped - narrowly missing Hermione, it burst at Harry's feet. I was lucky that is wasn't standing next to them but for them, or I would have to suffer the same fate. Either way, I was still laughing at the look on Harry's and Ron's face.

People all around us shrieked and started pushing one another in their efforts to get out of the line of fire.

I looked up and saw, floating twenty feet above us, Peeves the Poltergeist, a little man in a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie, his wide, malicious face contorted with concentration as he took aim again.

"PEEVES!" yelled an angry voice. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!" Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and head of Gryffindor House, had come dashing out of the Great Hall; she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop herself from falling.

"Ouch - sorry, Miss Granger -"

"That's all right, Professor!" Hermione gasped, massaging her throat.

"Peeves, get down here NOW!" barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed spectacles.

"Not doing nothing!" cackled Peeves, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!" And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.

"I shall call the headmaster!" shouted Professor McGonagall. "I'm warning you, Peeves -"

Peeves stuck out his tongue, threw the last of his water bombs into the air, and zoomed off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely.

"Well, move along, then!" said Professor McGonagall sharply to the bedraggled crowd. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione and me slipped and slid across the entrance hall and through the double doors on the right, Ron muttering furiously under his breath as he pushed his sopping hair off his face. I had a silly smile on my face. It was hilarious.

The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here. Harry, Ron, Hermione and me walked past the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, and sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors at the far side of the Hall, next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Pearly white and semitransparent, Nick was dressed tonight in his usual doublet, but with a particularly large ruff, which served the dual purpose of looking extra-festive, and insuring that his head didn't wobble too much on his partially severed neck.

"Good evening," he said, beaming at us.

"Says who?" said Harry, taking off his sneakers and emptying them of water. "Hope they hurry up with the Sorting. I'm starving."

The Sorting of the new students into Houses took place at the start of every school year, I only saw that one from last year because that was my first year and I was too nervous to really pay attention. I was quite looking forward to it. Just then, a highly excited, breathless voice called down the table.

"Hiya, Harry!"

It was Colin Creevey, a third year to whom Harry was something of a hero.

"Hi, Colin," said Harry warily.

"Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry? My brother's starting! My brother Dennis!"

"Er - good," said Harry.

"He's really excited!" said Colin, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. "I just hope he's in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Harry?"

"Er - yeah, all right," said Harry. He turned back to Hermione, Ron, Nearly Headless Nick and me.

"I bet you that you will gain another Fan," I said to him.

He groaned and I laughed.

"Brothers and sisters usually go in the same Houses, don't they?" he asked.

"Oh no, not necessarily," said Hermione. "Parvati Patil's twin's in Ravenclaw, and they're identical. You'd think they'd be together, wouldn't you?"

I looked up at the staff table. There seemed to be rather more empty seats there than usual. Hagrid, of course, was still fighting his way across the lake with the first years; Professor McGonagall was presumably supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor, but there was another empty chair too, probably for the new professor.

"Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Hermione, who was also looking up at the teachers.

They had never yet had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had lasted more than three terms. Last year it had been uncle Moony, who had resigned last year. I looked up and down the staff table. There was definitely no new face there.

"Maybe they couldn't get anyone!" said Hermione, looking anxious.

I scanned the table more carefully. Tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was sitting on a large pile of cushions beside Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher, whose hat was askew over her flyaway gray hair. She was talking to Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department. On Professor Sinistra's other side was the sallow-faced, hook-nosed, greasy-haired Potions master, Snape - my least favorite person at Hogwarts. My loathing of Snape was matched only by Snape's hatred of me, a hatred which had, if possible, intensified last year, when I had helped dad escape right under Snape's overlarge nose – Snape and Sirius had been enemies since their own school days.

On Snape's other side was an empty seat, which I guessed was Professor McGonagall's. Next to it, and in the very center of the table, sat Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, his sweeping silver hair and beard shining in the candlelight, his magnificent deep green robes embroidered with many stars and moons. The tips of Dumbledore's long, thin fingers were together and he was resting his chin upon them, staring up at the ceiling through his half-moon spectacles as though lost in thought. I glanced up at the ceiling too. It was enchanted to look like the sky outside, and I had never seen it look this stormy. Black and purple clouds were swirling across it, and as another thunderclap sounded outside, a fork of lightning flashed across it.

"Oh hurry up," Ron moaned, beside Harry, "I could eat a hippogriff."

"I would hope not, they are very proud and noble creatures!" I said.

The words were no sooner out of my mouth than the doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. If Harry, Ron, Hermione and me were wet, it was nothing to how these first years looked. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school - all of them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was wrapped in what I recognized as Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it looked as though he were draped in a furry black circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited.

When he had lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught Colin Creevey's eye, gave a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, 'I fell in the lake!' He looked positively delighted about it. Crazy kid.

Professor McGonagall now placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty patched wizard's hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song:

A thousand years or more ago,

When I was newly sewn,

There lived four wizards of renown,

Whose names are still well known:

Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,

Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,

Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,

Shrewd Slytherin, from fin.

They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,

They hatched a daring plan

To educate young sorcerers

Thus Hogwarts School began.

Now each of these four founders

Formed their own house, for each

Did value different virtues

In the ones they had to teach.

By Gryffindor, the bravest were

Prized far beyond the rest;

For Ravenclaw, the cleverest

Would always be the best;

For Hufflepuff, hard workers were

Most worthy of admission;

And power-hungry Slytherin

Loved those of great ambition.

While still alive they did divide

Their favorites from the throng,

Yet how to pick the worthy ones

When they were dead and gone?

'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,

He whipped me off his head

The founders put some brains in me

So I could choose instead!

Now slip me snug about your ears,

I've never yet been wrong,

I'll have a look inside your mind

And tell where you belong!

The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished.

"That's not the song it sang when it Sorted us," said Harry, clapping along with everyone else.

"Sings a different one every year," said Ron. "It's got to be a pretty boring life, hasn't it, being a hat? I suppose it spends all year making up the next one."

Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment.

"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.

"Ackerley, Stewart!"

A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to foot, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool.

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat.

Stewart Ackerley took off the hat and hurried into a seat at the Ravenclaw table, where everyone was applauding him. I caught a glimpse of Cho, the Ravenclaw Seeker, cheering Stewart Ackerley as he sat down. I still don't like the girl.

"Baddock, Malcolm!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The table on the other side of the hall erupted with cheers; I could see Malfoy clapping as Baddock joined the Slytherins. Iwondered whether Baddock knew that Slytherin House had turned out more Dark witches and wizards than any other. Fred and George hissed Malcolm Baddock as he sat down.

"Branstone, Eleanor!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Cauldwell, Owen!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Creevey, Dennis!"

Tiny Dennis Creevey staggered forward, tripping over Hagrid's moleskin, just as Hagrid himself sidled into the Hall through a door behind the teachers' table. About twice as tall as a normal man, and at least three times as broad, Hagrid, with his long, wild, tangled black hair and beard, looked slightly alarming – a misleading impression, for Harry, Ron, Hermione and me knew Hagrid to possess a very kind nature. He winked at us as he sat down at the end of the staff table and watched Dennis Creevey putting on the Sorting Hat. The rip at the brim opened wide— -

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted.

Hagrid clapped along with the Gryffindors as Dennis Creevey, beaming widely, took off the hat, placed it back on the stool, and hurried over to join his brother.

"Colin, I fell in!" he said shrilly, throwing himself into an empty seat. "It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!"

"Cool!" said Colin, just as excitedly. "It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"

"Wow!" said Dennis, as though nobody in their wildest dreams could hope for more than being thrown into a storm-tossed, fathoms-deep lake, and pushed out of it again by a giant sea monster.

"Dennis! Dennis! See that boy down there? The one with the black hair and glasses? See him? Know who he is, Dennis?"

Harry looked away, staring very hard at the Sorting Hat, now Sorting Emma Dobbs. I was laughing, yep another fan.

The Sorting continued; boys and girls with varying degrees of fright on their faces moving one by one to the three-legged stool, the line dwindling slowly as Professor McGonagall passed the L's.

"Oh hurry up," Ron moaned, massaging his stomach.

"Now, Ron, the Sorting's much more important than food," said Nearly Headless Nick as "Madley, Laura!" became a Hufflepuff.

"Course it is, if you're dead," snapped Ron.

"I do hope this year's batch of Gryffindors are up to scratch," said Nearly Headless Nick, applauding as "McDonald, Natalie!" joined the Gryffindor table.

"We don't want to break our winning streak, do we?"

Gryffindor had won the Inter-House Championship for the last three years in a row.

"Pritchard, Graham!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Quirke, Orla!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away. "About time," said Ron, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate.

Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.

"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

"Hear, hear!" said Harry and Ron loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before our eyes.

Nearly Headless Nick watched mournfully as Harry, Ron, Hermione and me loaded our own plates.

"Aaah, 'at's be'er," said Ron, with his mouth full of mashed potato.

"Disgusting Ron!" I said.

"You're lucky there's a feast at all tonight, you know," said Nearly Headless Nick. "There was trouble in the kitchens earlier."

"Why? Wha' 'appened?" said Harry, through a sizable chunk of steak.

"Peeves, of course," said Nearly Headless Nick, shaking his head, which wobbled dangerously. He pulled his ruff a little higher up on his neck. "The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast - well, it's quite out of the question, you know what he's like, utterly uncivilized, can't see a plate of food without throwing it. We held a ghost's council - the Fat Friar was all for giving him the chance – but most wisely, in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down."

The Bloody Baron was the Slytherin ghost, a gaunt and silent specter covered in silver bloodstains. He was the only person at Hogwarts who could really control Peeves.

"Yeah, we thought Peeves seemed hacked off about something," said Ron darkly.

"Really, what gave that away?" I asked sweetly. Ron threw me and angry look. I just smiled back.

"So what did he do in the kitchens?" Harry asked.

"Oh the usual," said Nearly Headless Nick, shrugging. "Wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits—"

Clang.

Hermione had knocked over her golden goblet. Pumpkin juice spread steadily over the tablecloth, staining several feet of white linen orange, but Hermione paid no attention.

"There are house-elves here?" she said, staring, horror-struck, at Nearly Headless Nick. "Here at Hogwarts?"

"Certainly," said Nearly Headless Nick, looking surprised at her reaction. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."

"I've never seen one!" said Hermione.

"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they?" said Nearly Headless Nick. "They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning… see to the fires and so on… I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?"

Hermione stared at him.

"But they get paid?" she said. "They get holidays, don't they? And - and sick leave, and pensions, and everything?"

Nearly Headless Nick chortled so much that his ruff slipped and his head flopped off, dangling on the inch or so of ghostly skin and muscle that still attached it to his neck.

"Sick leave and pensions?" he said, pushing his head back onto his shoulders and securing it once more with his ruff. "House-elves don't want sick leave and pensions!"

Hermione looked down at her hardly touched plate of food, then put her knife and fork down upon it and pushed it away from her.

"Oh c'mon, 'Er-my-knee," said Ron, accidentally spraying Harry with bits of Yorkshire pudding. "Oops — sorry, 'Arry —" He swallowed. "You won't get them sick leave by starving yourself!"

"Slave labor," said Hermione, breathing hard through her nose. "That's what made this dinner. Slave labor."

And she refused to eat another bite.

The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark glass. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates as the remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings.

"Treacle tart, Hermione!" said Ron, deliberately wafting its smell toward her. "Spotted dick, look! Chocolate gateau!"

But Hermione gave him a look so reminiscent of Professor McGonagall that he gave up.

When the puddings too had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered," ("Hmph!" said Hermione) "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"What?" Harry gasped. He looked around at Fred and George, his fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbhedore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Hermione gasped.

The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any I had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye - and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbhedore shook it, muttering words I couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students chapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

"Moody?" Harry muttered to us. "Mad-Eye Moody? The one your dad went to help this morning?"

"Must be," said Ron in a low, awed voice.

"What happened to him?" Hermione whispered. "What happened to his face?"

"Dunno," Ron whispered back, watching Moody with fascination.

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and I saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er - but maybe this is not the time… no…" said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament… well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely."

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"Death toll?" Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall; many of them were whispering excitedly to one another, and I myself was far more interested in hearing about the tournament than in worrying about deaths that had happened hundreds of years ago.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger."

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!" Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, I could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration.

This" — Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious - "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen."

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

"They can't do that!" said George Weasley, who had not joined the crowd moving toward the door, but was standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"

"They're not stopping me entering," said Fred stubbornly, also scowling at the top table. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"

"Yeah," said Ron, a faraway look on his face. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons…"

"Come on," said Hermione, "we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and me set off for the entrance hall, Fred and George debating the ways in which Dumbledore might stop those who were under seventeen from entering the tournament.

"Who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?" said Harry.

"Dunno," said Fred, "but it's them we'll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, George…"

"Dumbledore knows you're not of age, though," said Ron.

"Yeah, but he's not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?" said Fred shrewdly. "Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he'll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore's trying to stop us giving our names."

"People have died, though!" said Hermione in a worried voice as we walked through a door concealed behind a tapestry and started up another, narrower staircase.

"Yeah," said Fred airily, "but that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk? Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get 'round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?"

"What d'you reckon?" Ron asked Harry. "Be cool to enter, wouldn't it? But I s'pose they might want someone older… Dunno if we've learned enough…"

"I definitely haven't," came Neville's gloomy voice from behind Fred and George. "I expect my gran'd want me to try, though. She's always going on about how I should be upholding the family honor. I'll just have to — oops…"

Neville's foot had sunk right through a step halfway up the staircase. There were many of these trick stairs at Hogwarts; it was second nature to most of the older students to jump this particular step, but Neville's memory was notoriously poor. Harry and Ron seized him under the armpits and pulled him out, while a suit of armor at the top of the stairs creaked and clanked, laughing wheezily.

"Shut it, you," said Ron, banging down its visor as we passed. We made our way up to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, which was concealed behind a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said as they approached.

"Balderdash," said George, "a prefect downstairs told me."

The portrait swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall through which we all climbed. A crackling fire warmed the circular common room, which was full of squashy armchairs and tables. Hermione cast the merrily dancing flames a dark look, and I distinctly heard her mutter "Slave labor" before bidding the boys good night and disappearing through the doorway to the girls' dormitory. I shook my head and gave all the boys a hug. I said good night and followed Hermione up.

I climbed up the last, spiral staircase until I reached my own dormitory, which was situated at the top of the tower. Four four-poster beds with deep crimson hangings stood against the walls, each with its owner's trunk at the foot. Lavender and parvati were already getting into bed; they were gossiping already.

Hermione and me got into our pajamas and into bed. Someone - a house-elf, no doubt - had placed warming pans between the sheets. It was extremely comfortable, lying there in bed and listening to the storm raging outside.

Suddenly I felt someone sitting on my bed. It was Hermione. I raised my eyebrows at her, asking with my face 'What's wrong'?

She make a motion with her hand, telling me to move over. I did and she went to sit next to me.

"So, tell me. What did Cedric Diggory want and what happened? You were blushing when you got back!" she asked me.

Right, I promised het I would tell her.

I told her everything that happened. Everything he said. She was quit when I spoke and I was grateful for that.

"And then he kissed me hand said until later and I walked away. But he grabbed my hand again and I believe he kissed me. That's it!" I said.

"You believe he kissed you?" she asked.

"It happened so fast and it was very quick, but so nice. Yeah he really kissed me!" I said smiling.

"So what, you are together now, or…?"

"No, I told him I didn't know yet. He didn't mind. Can you believe it Hermione? Cedric Diggory, the heartthrob of Hogwarts likes me, Me!"

"Well, that's wonderful, but Aurora, promise you will be careful. Makes sure you really know how you feel okay, so you don't hurt!" she said to me looking into my eyes.

"I promise, I know what you mean. Thank you Hermione for being my friend!" I said.

"Just a friend?" she asked.

"My best friend!" I said smiling.

She smiled too, "It's nothing, thank you for being my best friend!"

We hugged, said goodnight and she went to her bed. I was really lucky had her has my friend and Harry and Ron. I don't know what I would have done without them. I feel asleep listening to the storm outside. I dreamed that night of Cedric, but sometimes I would see Harry too, with a sad look on his face.

**A/N: another chapter finished **

**You know the drill, tell me what you think!**


	9. MadEye Moody

**A/N: I don't own anything**

**Chapter 9: Mad-Eye Moody **

The storm had blown itself out by the following morning, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy; heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled overhead as Harry, Ron, Hermione and me examined our new course schedules at breakfast. A few seats along, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were discussing magical methods of aging themselves and bluffing their way into the Triwizard Tournament.

"Today's not bad… outside all morning," said Ron, who was running his finger down the Monday column of his schedule. "Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures… damn it, we're still with the Slytherins…"

"Double Divination this afternoon," Harry groaned, looking down. Divination was Harry's least favorite subject, apart from Potions. Professor Trelawney kept predicting Harry's death, which he found extremely annoying.

"You should have given it up like me, shouldn't you?" said Hermione briskly, buttering herself some toast. "Then you'd be doing something sensible like Arithmancy."

"You're eating again, I notice," said Ron, watching Hermione adding liberal amounts of jam to her toast too.

"I've decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights," said Hermione haughtily.

"Yeah… and you were hungry," said Ron, grinning.

There was a sudden rustling noise above us, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail. The owls circled the tables, looking for the people to whom their letters and packages were addressed. A large tawny owl soared down to Neville Longbottom and deposited a parcel into his lap - Neville almost alway forgot to pack something. On the other side of the Hall Draco Malfoy's eagle owl had landed on his shoulder, carrying what looked like his usual supply of sweets and cakes from home. I was wondering why dad hadn't written anything yet. Normally I would get one a week but it's been longer than a week now. I really hope nothing bad happened to him!

My preoccupation lasted all the way across the sodden vegetable patch until we arrived in greenhouse three, but here I was distracted by Professor Sprout showing the class the ugliest plants I had ever seen. Indeed, they looked less like plants than thick, black, giant slugs, protruding vertically out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly and had a number of large, shiny swellings upon it, which appeared to be full of liquid.

"Bubotubers," Professor Sprout told them briskly. "They need squeezing. You will collect the pus -"

"The what?" said Seamus Finnigan, sounding revolted.

"Pus, Finnigan, pus," said Professor Sprout, "and it's extremely valuable, so don't waste it. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus."

Squeezing the bubotubers was disgusting, but oddly satisfying. As each swelling was popped, a large amount of thick yellowish-green liquid burst forth, which smelled strongly of petrol. They caught it in the bottles as Professor Sprout had indicated, and by the end of the lesson had collected several pints. "This'll keep Madam Pomfrey happy," said Professor Sprout, stoppering the last bottle with a cork. "An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, bubotuber pus. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples."

"Like poor Eloise Midgen," said Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff, in a hushed voice. "She tried to curse hers off."

"Silly girl," said Professor Sprout, shaking her head. "But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end."

A booming bell echoed from the castle across the wet grounds, signaling the end of the lesson, and the class separated; the Hufflepuffs climbing the stone steps for Transfiguration, and the Gryffindors heading in the other direction, down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid's small wooden cabin, which stood on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Hagrid was standing outside his hut, one hand on the collar of his enormous black boarhound, Fang. There were several open wooden crates on the ground at his feet, and Fang was whimpering and straining at his collar, apparently keen to investigate the contents more closely. As we drew nearer, an odd rattling noise reached our ears, punctuated by what sounded like minor explosions.

"Mornin'!" Hagrid said, grinning at Harry, Ron, Hermione and me. "Be'er wait fer the Slytherins, they won' want ter miss this - Blast-Ended Skrewts!"

"Come again?" said Ron.

Hagrid pointed down into the crates.

"Eurgh!" squealed Lavender Brown, jumping backward. "Eurgh" just about summed up the Blast-Ended Skrewts in my opinion. They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads. There were about a hundred of them in each crate, each about six inches long, crawling over one aother, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. They were giving off a very powerful smell of rotting fish. Every now and then, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, and with a small phut, it would be propelled forward several inches.

"On'y jus' hatched," said Hagrid proudly, "so yeh'll be able ter raise 'em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project of it!"

"And why would we want to raise them?" said a cold voice.

The Slytherins had arrived. The speaker was Draco Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were chuckling appreciatively at his words.

Hagrid looked stumped at the question.

"I mean, what do they do?" asked Malfoy. "What is the point of them?"

Hagrid opened his mouth, apparently thinking hard; there was a few seconds' pause, then he said roughly,

"Tha's next lesson, Malfoy. Yer jus' feedin' 'em today. Now, yeh'll wan' ter try 'em on a few diff'rent things - I've never had 'em before, not sure what they'll go fer - I got ant eggs an' frog livers an' a bit o' grass snake - just try 'em out with a bit of each."

"First pus and now this," muttered Seamus.

Nothing but deep affection for Hagrid could have made Harry, Ron, and Hermione pick up squelchy handfuls of frog liver and lower them into the crates to tempt the Blast-Ended Skrewts. I just did it because it was a lesson, no way in hell was I ever going to do this on free will! I couldn't suppress the suspicion that the whole thing was entirely pointless, because the skrewts didn't seem to have mouths.

"Ouch!" yelled Dean Thomas after about ten minutes. "It got me."

Hagrid hurried over to him, looking anxious.

"It's end exploded!" said Dean angrily, showing Hagrid a burn on his hand.

"Ah, yeah, that can happen when they blast off," said Hagrid, nodding.

"Eurgh!" said Lavender Brown again. "Eurgh, Hagrid, what's that pointy thing on it?"

"Ah, some of 'em have got stings," said Hagrid enthusiastically (Lavender quickly withdrew her hand from the box). "I reckon they're the males… The females've got sorta sucker things on their bellies… I think they might be ter suck blood."

"Well, I can certainly see why we're trying to keep them alive," said Malfoy sarcastically. "Who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?"

"Just because they're not very pretty, it doesn't mean they're not useful," Hermione snapped. "Dragon blood's amazingly magical, but you wouldn't want a dragon for a pet, would you?"

Harry and Ron grinned at Hagrid, who gave them a furtive smile from behind his bushy beard and I smirked at Malfoy. Take that! Hagrid simply loved monstrous creatures, the more lethal, the better.

"Well, at least the skrewts are small," said Ron as we made our way back up to the castle for lunch an hour later.

"They are now," said Hermione in an exasperated voice, "but once Hagrid's found out what they eat, I expect they'll be six feet long."

"Well, that won't matter if they turn out to cure seasickness or something, will it?" said Ron, grinning slyly at her.

"You know Hermione only said that to shut Malfoy up," I said. "Just so you know, I think he's right. The best thing to do would be to stamp on the lot of them before they start attacking us all."

We sat down at the Gryffindor table and helped ourselves to lamb chops and potatoes. Me choosing fish, did I mention I was a vegetarian? Hermione began to eat so fast that Harry and Ron stared at her. I was shaking my head. That girl is going to kill herself.

"Er - is this the new stand on elf rights?" said Ron. "You're going to make yourself puke instead?"

"No," said Hermione, with as much dignity as she could muster with her mouth bulging with sprouts. "I just want to get to the library."

"What?" said Ron in disbelief. "Hermione - it's the first day back! We haven't even got homework yet!"

Hermione shrugged and continued to shovel down her food as though she had not eaten for days. Then she leapt to her feet, said, "See you at dinner!" and departed at high speed.

When the bell rang to signal the start of afternoon lessons, Harry, Ron and me set off for North Tower where, at the top of a tightly spiraling staircase, a silver stepladder led to a circular trapdoor in the ceiling, and the room where Professor Trelawney lived.

The familiar sweet perfume spreading from the fire met our nostrils as we emerged at the top of the stepladder. As ever, the curtains were all closed; the circular room was bathed in a dim reddish light cast by the many lamps, which were all draped with scarves and shawls. Harry, Ron and me walked through the mass of occupied chintz chairs and poufs that cluttered the room, and sat down at the same small circular table.

"Good day," said the misty voice of Professor Trelawney right behind Harry, making him jump.

A very thin woman with enormous glasses that made her eyes appear far too large for her face, Professor Trelawney was peering down at Harry with the tragic expression she always wore whenever she saw him. The usual large amount of beads, chains, and bangles glittered upon her person in the firelight.

"You are preoccupied, my dear," she said mournfully to Harry. "My inner eye sees past your brave face to the troubled soul within. And I regret to say that your worries are not baseless. I see difficult times ahead for you, alas… most difficult… I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass… and perhaps sooner than you think…"

Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, who looked stonily back. Professor Trelawney swept past us and seated herself in a large winged armchair before the fire, facing the class. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who deeply admired Professor Trelawney, were sitting on poufs very close to her.

"My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars," she said. "The movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays, which intermingle…"

Argh why did I bother with this class! It's so boring, nothing excited ever happened. It's always the same. I know how to read the stars and planets, uncle Moony told me a bit. Suddenly Professor Trelawney said Harry's name and I shook my head clear. Stay here ,Aurora, keep your mind open. It's seems that Harry wasn't listening too, as he didn't respond.

"Harry!" Ron muttered.

"What?" he asked.

Harry looked around; the whole class was staring at him. He sat up straight; looked like he almost dozed off.

"I was saying, my dear, that you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn," said Professor Trelawney, a faint note of resentment in her voice at the fact that he had obviously not been hanging on her words.

"Born under - what, sorry?" said Harry.

"Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn!" said Professor Trelawney, sounding definitely irritated that he wasn't riveted by this news. "I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth… Your dark hair… your mean stature… tragic losses so young in life… I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?"

"No," said Harry, "I was born in July."

Ron hastily turned his laugh into a hacking cough. I didn't, I just smiled.

Half an hour later, each of us had been given a complicated circular chart, and was attempting to fill in the position of the planets at our moment of birth. It was dull work, requiring much consultation of timetables and calculation of angles.

"I've got two Neptunes here," said Harry after a while, frowning down at his piece of parchment, "that can't be right, can it?"

"Aaaaah," said Ron, imitating Professor Trelawney's mystical whisper, "when two Neptunes appear in the sky, it is a sure sign that a midget in glasses is being born, Harry…"

Seamus and Dean, who were working nearby, sniggered loudly, though not loudly enough to mask the excited squeals from Lavender Brown - "Oh Professor, look! I think I've got an unaspected planet! Oooh, which one's that, Professor?"

"It is Uranus, my dear," said Professor Trelawney, peering down at the chart.

"Can I have a look at Uranus too, Lavender?" said Ron. I slapped his head. Boys!

Most unfortunately, Professor Trelawney heard him, and it was this, perhaps, that made her give them so much homework at the end of the class.

"A detailed analysis of the way the planetary movements in the coming month will affect you, with reference to your personal chart," she snapped, sounding much more like Professor McGonagall than her usual airy-fairy self. "I want it ready to hand in next Monday, and no excuses!"

"Miserable old bat," said Ron bitterly as we joined the crowds descending the staircases back to the Great Hall and dinner. "That'll take all weekend, that will…"

"Lots of homework?" said Hermione brightly, catching up with us. "Professor Vector didn't give us any at all!"

"Well, bully for Professor Vector," said Ron moodily.

We reached the entrance hall, which was packed with people queuing for dinner. we had just joined the end of the line, when a loud voice rang out behind us.

"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione and me turned. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing there, each looking thoroughly pleased about something.

"What?" said Ron shortly.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Malfoy, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance hall could hear. "Listen to this!"

**FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC**

It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

Malfoy looked up.

"Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" he crowed.

Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish and read on:

Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.

"And there's a picture, Weasley!" said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house - if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at him.

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," said Harry. "C'mon, Ron…"

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

"You know your mother, Malfoy?" said Harry - both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy, I had walked in front of him and placed both hands on his chest to hold him there –

"that expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink.

"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," said Harry, turning away.

BANG!

Several people screamed - Something white-hot graze the side of Harry's face - I plunged my hand into my robes for my wand, but before I'd even touched it, I heard a second loud BANG, and a roar that echoed through the entrance hall.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

I spun around. Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing.

There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Harry — at least, his normal eye was looking at Harry; the other one was pointing into the back of his head.

"Did he get you?" Moody growled. His voice was low and gravelly.

"No," said Harry, "missed."

"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted.

"Leave - what?" Harry said, bewildered.

"Not you - him!" Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that Moody's rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head.

Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.

"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again - it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain.

"Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…"

The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly. "Never - do - that - again -" said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.

"Professor Moody!" said a shocked voice.

Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

"What - what are you doing?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air.

"Teaching," said Moody.

"Teach - Moody, is that a student?" shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

"Yep," said Moody.

"No!" cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.

"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall wealdy. "Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"

"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, "but I thought a good sharp shock -"

"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"

"I'll do that, then," said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.

Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered something in which the words "my father" were distinguishable.

"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. "Well, I know your father of old, boy… You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son… you tell him that from me… Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"

"Yes," said Malfoy resentfully.

"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape… Come on, you…"

And he seized Malfoy's upper arm and marched him off toward the dungeons.

Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, then waved her wand at her fallen books, causing them to soar up into the air and back into her arms.

"Don't talk to me," Ron said quietly to Harry, Hermione and me as we sat down at the Gryffindor table a few minutes later, surrounded by excited talk on all sides about what had just happened.

"Why not?" said Hermione in surprise.

"Because I want to fix that in my memory forever," said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression on his face. "Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret."

Harry, Hermione and me laughed, and Hermione began doling beef casserole onto each of their plates. I went for Salmon.

"He could have really hurt Malfoy, though," she said. "It was good, really, that Professor McGonagall stopped it -"

"Hermione!" said Ron furiously, his eyes snapping open again, "you're ruining the best moment of my life!"

Hermione made an impatient noise.

"Hermione is right, Ron. He's still human, he could have seriously hurt himself. He could have a trauma." I said.

Hermione smiled at me and began to eat at top speed again.

"Don't tell me you're going back to the library this evening?" said Harry, watching her.

"Got to," said Hermione thickly. "Loads to do."

"But you told us Professor Vector -"

"It's not schoolwork," she said. Within five minutes, she had cleared her plate and departed. No sooner had she gone than her seat was taken by Fred Weasley.

"Moody!" he said. "How cool is he?"

"Beyond cool," said George, sitting down opposite Fred. "Supercool," said the twins' best friend, Lee Jordan, sliding into the seat beside George. "We had him this afternoon," he told Harry, Ron and me.

"What was it like?" said Harry eagerly.

Fred, George, and Lee exchanged looks full of meaning.

"Never had a lesson like it," said Fred.

"He knows, man," said Lee.

"Knows what?" said Ron, leaning forward.

"Knows what it's like to be out there doing it," said George impressively.

"Doing what?" said Harry.

"Fighting the Dark Arts," said Fred.

"He's seen it all," said George.

"Mazing," said Lee.

Ron dived into his bag for his schedule.

"We haven't got him till Thursday!" he said in a disappointed voice.

"You'll live!" I said smiling.

"Hey, Aurora," I heard from behind me. I would recognize that voice from everywhere.

"Hi, Cedric," and I turned around.

There he stood smiling at me. He nodded at the others and then his eyes found mine again.

"How was your first day?" he asked.

"Pretty boring, the best part is where you showed up." I said smiling.

He laughed full hearted at that.

"How was your day?" I asked him.

"The same, boring until I saw you." he said winking.

This is so cheesy, but why don't I mind it?

"I was wondering if you wanted to do this weekend with me?" he asked.

"Like a date?"

"Yes, like a date," he said.

"Sure, love to," I smiled sweetly at him.

"I'll give you the information later, so I have an excuse to talk to again."

"Very well, I look forward to it!"

"Good, see you later, Aurora!" he said and he bended down and once again gave me a soft kiss on the lips. He walked away, again before I could do or say anything back. I watched his retreading back and I saw something out of the corner of my eyes. Cho Chang was looking at me with hatred. What the hell his her problem.

I sighed and turned around again, only to find the boys staring at me with their mouths wide open.

"Close your mouths, you'll catch flies!" I said and went back to my eating.

The boys closed their mouths but were still looking at me. I sighed again, took my pack and stood up.

"I'll see you guys later, bye" I said and I walked out of the Great Hall. I felt almost every eye on me. Really was Cedric kissing me such an event that everybody had to watch? I prepared myself for the gossip that was going to follow. I hope Cedric is prepared for this. It can get ugly.

**A/N: I'm sorry it took some time to update but I busy for school. Exams are coming up and I liked to be prepared.**

**You know the drill, tell me what you think! **


	10. The Unforgivable Curses

**A/N: I don't own anything.**

**Sorry for the late update, I had other things on my mind.**

**Chapter 10: The Unforgivable Curses**

The next two days passed without great incident, unless you counted Neville melting his sixth cauldron in Potions. Professor Snape, who seemed to have attained new levels of vindictiveness over the summer, gave Neville detention, and Neville returned from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to disembowel a barrel full of horned toads.

"You know why Snape's in such a foul mood, don't you?" said Ron to Harry and me as we watched Hermione teaching Neville a Scouring Charm to remove the frog guts from under his fingernails.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Moody."

It was common knowledge that Snape really wanted the Dark Arts job, and he had now failed to get it for the fourth year running. Snape had disliked all of our previous Dark Arts teachers, and shown it - but he seemed strangely wary of displaying overt animosity to Mad-Eye Moody. Indeed, whenever I saw the two of them together - at mealtimes, or when they passed in the corridors - I had the distinct impression that Snape was avoiding Moody's eye, whether magical or normal.

"I reckon Snape's a bit scared of him, you know," Harry said thoughtfully.

"Imagine if Moody turned Snape into a horned toad," said Ron, his eyes misting over, "and bounced him all around his dungeon…"

"Really mature, Ron." I said.

The Gryffindor fourth years were looking forward to Moody's first lesson so much that they arrived early on Thursday lunchtime and queued up outside his classroom before the bell had even rung. The only person missing was Hermione, who turned up just in time for the lesson.

"Been in the -"

"Library." Harry finished her sentence for her. "C'mon, quick, or we won't get decent seats."

We hurried into four chairs right in front of the teacher's desk, took out our copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and waited, unusually quiet. Soon we heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. We could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.

"You can put those away," he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, "those books. You won't need them."

We returned the books to our bags, Ron looking excited.

Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.

"Right then," he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures - you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"But you're behind - very behind - on dealing with curses," said Moody. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark -"

"What, aren't you staying?" Ron blurted out.

Moody's magical eye spun around to stare at Ron; Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiled - the first time I had seen him do so. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was nevertheless good to know that he ever did anything as friendly as smile.

Ron looked deeply relieved.

"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Moody said. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago… Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore… One year, and then back to my quiet retirement." He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

"So - straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."

Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently Moody's magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head.

"So… do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Ron's, Hermione's and mine.

Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender.

"Er," said Ron tentatively, "my dad told me about one… Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?"

"Ah, yes," said Moody appreciatively. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse."

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it.

I could see Ron move out of the corner of my eye - Ron hated spiders. Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Imperio!"

The spider leapt from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.

Everyone was laughing - everyone except Moody and me. I know what that curse can do when you are not as friendly like Moody is now.

"Think it's funny, do you?" he growled. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"

The laughter died away almost instantly.

"Total control," said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats…"

Ron gave an involuntary shudder.

"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse," said Moody, and I knew he was talking about the days in which Voldemort had been all-powerful. "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will."

"The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, and everyone jumped.

Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar.

"Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"

Hermione's hand flew into the air again and so, to my slight surprise, did Neville's. The only class in which Neville usually volunteered information was Herbology which was easily his best subject. Neville looked surprised at his own daring.

"Yes?" said Moody, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Neville.

"There's one - the Cruciatus Curse," said Neville in a small but distinct voice.

Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes. What is his deal?

"Your name's Longbottom?" he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again.

Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.

"The Cruciatus Curse," said Moody. "Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea," he said, pointing his wand at the spider. "Engorgio!"

The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Abandoning all pretense, Ron pushed his chair backward, as far away from Moody's desk as possible. Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, "Crucio!"

At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but I was sure that if it could have given voice, it would have been screaming. I couldn't look away, I wanted it to, but I couldn't. it's horrible.

Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently - "Stop it!" Hermione said shrilly.

I looked around at her. She was looking, not at the spider, but at Neville, and I, following her gaze, saw that Neville's hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, his knuckles white, his eyes wide and horrified. Moody raised his wand. The spider's legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch.

"Reducio," Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.

"Pain," said Moody softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse… That one was very popular once too."

"Right… anyone know any others?"

I looked around. From the looks on everyone's faces, I guessed they were all wondering what was going to happen to the last spider. Hermione's hand shook slightly as, for the third time, she raised it into the air.

"Yes?" said Moody, looking at her.

"Avada Kedavra," Hermione whispered.

Several people looked uneasily around at her, including Ron.

"Ah," said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. "Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra… the Killing Curse."

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody's fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.

Moody raised his wand, and I felt uneasy. Was he really going to preform that curse? In front of us. Is he mad?

"Avada Kedavra!" Moody roared. Oh my God, he did it.

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air - instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backward and almost toppled off his seat as the spider skidded toward him.

Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.

"Not nice," he said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no countercurse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me."

Harry's face redden as Moody's eyes (both of them) looked into his. Everyone else lookied around at him too. Harry stared at the blank blackboard as though fascinated by it, but not really seeing it at all… I could read his face well and know most of the time what he's thinking.

So that was how people die, like that spider. Unblemished and unmarked. Just a flash of green light, dead coming right at you without escaping it. Life that easily wiped away from your body.

I wonder why mam didn't do it that way. It's painless and quick. So much better than what she did. What she did to me. It would have been easier for me to if she just died in a second and not dragged out. Screaming and …

Moody was speaking again, from a great distance, it seemed to me. With a massive effort, I pulled myself back to the present and listened to what Moody was saying.

"Avada Kedavra's a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it - you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it."

"Now, if there's no countercurse, why am I showing you? Because you've got to know. You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and the whole class jumped again.

"Now… those three curses - Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus - are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills… copy this down…"

We spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang - but when Moody had dismissed us and we had left the classroom, a torrent of talk burst forth. Most people were discussing the curses in awed voices –

"Did you see it twitch?"

"- and when he killed it – just like that!"

They were talking about the lesson, I thought, as though it had been some sort of spectacular show, but I hadn't found it very entertaining – and nor, it seemed, had Hermione and Harry.

"Hurry up," she said tensely to Harry and Ron.

"Not the ruddy library again?" said Ron.

"No," I said curtly, pointing up a side passage. "Neville." Neville was standing alone, halfway up the passage, staring at the stone wall opposite him with the same horrified, wide-eyed look he had worn when Moody had demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse.

"Neville?" I said gently.

Neville looked around.

"Oh hello," he said, his voice much higher than usual. "Interesting lesson, wasn't it? I wonder what's for dinner, I'm – I'm starving, aren't you?"

"Neville, are you all right?" I asked.

"Oh yes, I'm fine," Neville gabbled in the same unnaturally high voice. "Very interesting dinner – I mean lesson – what's for eating?"

Ron gave Harry a startled look.

"Neville, what -?"

But an odd clunking noise sounded behind us, and we turned to see Professor Moody limping toward us. All five of us fell silent, watching him apprehensively, but when he spoke, it was in a much lower and gentler growl than we had yet heard.

"It's all right, sonny," he said to Neville. "Why don't you come up to my office? Come on… we can have a cup of tea…"

Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of tea with Moody. He neither moved nor spoke. Moody turned his magical eye upon Harry.

"You all right, are you, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry.

Moody's blue eye quivered slightly in its socket as it surveyed Harry. Then he said, "You've got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you've got to know. No point pretending… well… come on, Longbottom, I've got some books that might interest you."

Neville looked pleadingly at Harry, Ron, Hermione and me but we didn't say anything, so Neville had no choice but to allow himself to be steered away, one of Moody's gnarled hands on his shoulder.

"What was that about?" said Ron, watching Neville and Moody turn the corner.

"I don't know," said Hermione, looking pensive.

"Some lesson, though, eh?" said Ron to us as we set off for the Great Hall. "Fred and George were right, weren't they? He really knows his stuff, Moody, doesn't he? When he did Avada Kedavra, the way that spider just died, just snuffed it right –"

"Tact, Ron, ever heard of it? God!" I said to him while hitting him on the head.

"Bloody Hell, woman, what's your …"

But Ron fell silent at the look on Harry's face and didn't speak again until we reached the Great Hall, when he said he supposed we had better make a start on Professor Trelawney's predictions tonight, since they would take hours.

Hermione did not join in with Harry's, Ron's and mine conversation during dinner, but ate furiously fast, and then left for the library again. Harry, Ron and me walked back to Gryffindor Tower, and Harry, now raised the subject of the Unforgivable Curses himself.

"Wouldn't Moody and Dumbledore be in trouble with the Ministry if they knew we'd seen the curses?" Harry asked as we approached the Fat Lady.

"Yeah, probably," said Ron. "But Dumbledore's always done things his way, hasn't he, and Moody's been getting in trouble for years, I reckon. Attacks first and asks questions later – look at his dustbins. Balderdash."

The Fat Lady swung forward to reveal the entrance hole, and we climbed into the Gryffindor common room, which was crowded and noisy.

"Shall we get our Divination stuff, then?" said Harry.

"I s'pose," Ron groaned.

They went up to the dormitory to fetch their books and charts and I went to get mine. I was back before the boys and went to sit on the table to get started already. I wasn't in the mood to do this but I had no choice. It didn't took long before the boys were back and began on their predictions for the coming month. I worked fast and soon was finished. I didn't believe anything I had written and I didn't checked it if it was right. It was only Divination.

The boys on the other hand, had some trouble. An hour later, they had made very little progress, though our table was littered with bits of parchment bearing sums and symbols.

"I haven't got a clue what this lot's supposed to mean," Harry said, staring down at a long list of calculations.

"You know," said Ron, whose hair was on end because of all the times he had run his fingers through it in frustration, "I think it's back to theold Divination standby."

"What – make it up?"

"Yeah," said Ron, sweeping the jumble of scrawled notes off the table, dipping his pen into some ink, and starting to write.

"Next Monday," he said as he scribbled, "I am likely to develop a cough, owing to the unlucky conjunction of Mars and Jupiter." He looked up at Harry. "You know her – just put in loads of misery, she'll lap it up."

"Right," said Harry, crumpling up his first attempt and lobbing it over the heads of a group of chattering first years into the fire. "Okay… on Monday, I will be in danger of- er – burns."

"Yeah, you will be," said Ron darkly, "we're seeing the skrewts again on Monday. Okay, Tuesday, I'll… erm…"

"Lose a treasured possession," said Harry, who was flicking through Unfogging the Future for ideas.

"Good one," said Ron, copying it down. "Because of… erm… Mercury. Why don't you get stabbed in the back by someone you thought was a friend?"

"Yeah… cool…" said Harry, scribbling it down, "because… Venus is in the twelfth house."

"And on Wednesday, I think I'll come off worst in a fight."

"Aaah, I was going to have a fight. Okay, I'll lose a bet."

"Yeah, you'll be betting I'll win my fight…"

They continued to make up predictions (which grew steadily more tragic) for another hour, while the common room around them slowly emptied as people went up to bed. Crookshanks wandered over to them, leapt lightly into an empty chair, and stared inscrutably at Harry and Ron, rather as Hermione might look if she knew they weren't doing their homework properly. I didn't mind, at least not with this work. I even suggested some things to them. We had a lot of fun making up different ways of dying.

Staring around the room, trying to think of a kind of misfortune they hadn't yet used, I saw Fred and George sitting together against the opposite wall, heads together, quills out, poring over a single piece of parchment. It was most unusual to see Fred and George hidden away in a corner and working silently; they usually liked to be in the thick of things and the noisy center of attention. There was something secretive about the way they were working on the piece of parchment, and I was reminded of how they had sat together writing something back at the Burrow. I had thought then that it was another order form for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but it didn't look like that this time; if it had been, they would surely have let Lee Jordan in on the joke. I wondered whether it had anything to do with entering the Triwizard Tournament.

As I watched, George shook his head at Fred, scratched out something with his quill, and said, in a very quiet voice that nevertheless carried across the almost deserted room, "No – that sounds like we're accusing him. Got to be careful…"

Then George looked over and saw me watching him. I grinned and quickly returned to the predictions – I didn't want George to think he was eavesdropping.

Shortly after that, the twins rolled up their parchment, said good night, and went off to bed. Fred and George had been gone ten minutes or so when the portrait hole opened and Hermione climbed into the common room carrying a sheaf of parchment in one hand and a box whose contents rattled as she walked in the other. Crookshanks arched his back, purring.

"Hello," she said, "I've just finished!"

"So have I!" said Ron triumphantly, throwing down his quill.

Hermione sat down, laid the things she was carrying in an empty armchair, and pulled Ron's predictions toward her.

"Not going to have a very good month, are you?" she said sardonically as Crookshanks curled up in her lap.

"Ah well, at least I'm forewarned," Ron yawned.

"You seem to be drowning twice," said Hermione.

"Oh am I?" said Ron, peering down at his predictions. "I'd better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging hippogriff."

"Don't you think it's a bit obvious you've made these up?" said Hermione.

"How dare you!" said Ron, in mock outrage. "We've been working like house-elves here!"

Stupid boy, he's digging his own grave.

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"It's just an expression," said Ron hastily.

Harry laid down his quill too.

"What's in the box?" Harry asked, pointing at it.

"Funny you should ask," said Hermione, with a nasty look at Ron. She took off the lid and showed us the contents. Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colors, but all bearing the same letters: S. P. E.W.

"Spew?" said Harry, picking up a badge and looking at it. "What's this about?"

"Not spew," said Hermione impatiently. "It's S-P-E-W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Never heard of it," said Ron.

"Well, of course you haven't," said Hermione briskly, "I've only just started it."

"Yeah?" said Ron in mild surprise. "How many members have you got?"

"Well – if you two join – four," said Hermione.

"And you think we want to walk around wearing badges saying 'spew,' do you?" said Ron.

"S-P-E-W!" said Hermione hotly. "I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status – but it wouldn't fit. So that's the heading of our manifesto."

She brandished the sheaf of parchment at us.

"I've been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now."

"Hermione – open your ears," said Ron loudly. "They. Like. It. They like being enslaved!"

"Our short-term aims," said Hermione, speaking even more loudly than Ron, and acting as though she hadn't heard a word, "are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about nonwand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrepresented."

"And how do we do all this?" Harry asked.

"We start by recruiting members," said Hermione happily. "I thought two Sickles to join – that buys a badge – and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign. You're treasurer, Ron – I've got you a collecting tin upstairs – and Harry, you're secretary, so you might want to write down everything I'm saying now, as a record of our first meeting. Aurora, we are going to recruit memebers."

There was a pause in which Hermione beamed at the three of us, and I sat, torn between exasperation at Hermione and amusement at the look on Ron's and Harry's faces. The silence was broken, not by Ron, who in any case looked as though he was temporarily dumbstruck, but by a soft tap, tap on the window. I looked across the now empty common room and saw, illuminated by the moonlight, a snowy owl perched on the windowsill.

"Hedwig!" Harry shouted, and he launched himself out of his chair and across the room to pull open the window.

Hedwig flew inside, soared across the room, and landed on the table on top of Harry's predictions.

"About time!" said Harry, hurrying after her.

"She's got an answer!" said Ron excitedly, pointing at the grubby piece of parchment tied to Hedwig's leg. Dad finally answered.

Harry hastily untied it and sat down to read, whereupon Hedwig fluttered onto his knee, hooting softly.

"What does it say?" I asked breathlessly.

The letter was very short, and looked as though it had been scrawled in a great hurry. Harry read it aloud:

Harry –

I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore – they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is. I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry.

Aurora –

I'm answering through this letter, so I don't have to write two. I miss you like crazy. I finally had you back and then I lost you again. Yes, I know, I told you this in every letter, as well as my apologies. I'm fine! Stop worrying. And stop harassing Moony about my whereabouts, he doesn't know either. We meet somewhere so that they never catch me. I'm being very careful! Honest! Yes I'm coming back, but I will be fine. Stop Harry from worrying to! I love you, my beautiful star and I know we will be together soon!

Sirius

Harry looked up at Ron, Hermione and me, we stared back at him.

"He's flying north?" Hermione whispered. "He's coming back?"

"Dumbledore's reading what signs?" said Ron, looking perplexed. "Harry – what's up?"

For Harry had just hit himself in the forehead with his fist, jolting Hedwig out of his lap.

"I shouldn't've told him!" Harry said furiously.

"What are you on about?" said Ron in surprise.

"It's made him think he's got to come back!" said Harry, now slamming his fist on the table so that Hedwig landed on the back of Ron's chair, hooting indignantly. "Coming back, because he thinks I'm in trouble! And there's nothing wrong with me! And I haven't got anything for you," Harry snapped at Hedwig, who was clicking her beak expectantly, "you'll have to go up to the Owlery if you want food."

Hedwig gave him an extremely offended look and took off for the open window, cuffing him around the head with her outstretched wing as she went.

"Harry, he will be fine! I trust him and if he says he's going to be fine, I believe him! I don't you dare to take it out on Hedwig! She hasn't done anything! He's the closest you have to a father and that's what fathers do! They care about you. so much that they will risk their lives for you. it doesn't mean is going to get caught. I'm sure uncle Moony and Dumbledore will make sure that everything is going to be fine! So stop it!" I said to him.

Ron and Hermione looked at me with awe. Harry just stared at me.

"I'm going to bed," said Harry shortly. "See you in the morning."

"Argh, there's no talking to that boy. I'm going to bed!"

Upstairs in the dormitory I pulled on my pajamas and got into my four-poster, but I didn't feel remotely tired. Dad is coming back. I know I said to Harry that everything was going to be fine, but honestly, I didn't believe it myself. I couldn't stop myself from worrying.

I heard Hermione come up into the dormitory a short while later, but did not speak to her. For a long time, I lay staring up at the dark canopy of my bed. The dormitory was completely silent. I feel asleep with the image of dad being back in Azkaban.

**A/N: Again sorry for the late update **

**You know what to do! Review and make me happy **


	11. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, they made my day and made me want to write more ;)**

**I don't own anything**

**Chapter 11: Beauxbatons and Durmstrang**

Early next morning, I woke with a clear mind. I'm guessing that Harry is going to write to dad to tell him something so he doesn't come back. I still haven't made up my mind if I was going to stop him or give him my blessing.

I got up, dressed in the pale dawn light, left the dormitory without waking anyone, and went back down to the deserted common room. At least I thought it was deserted. Harry was sitting at the same table as last night and was writing. Guess I was right.

I went to stand behind him and looked over his shoulder so I could read what he was writing.

Dear Sirius,

I reckon I just imagined my scar hurting,

I was half asleep when I wrote to you last time. There's no point coming back, everything's fine here. Don't worry about me, my head feels completely normal.

Harry

He sighed, leaned back and looked up. Surprise was all over his face.

"Aurora, you scared me. What are you doing here?"

"Standing, what does it look like I'm doing?" I asked with a smirk.

"Very funny." He said. He looked back to his letter and back to me. "If you are here to stop me, it's not going to work!"

"I know, I figured that out last night. You didn't even listen to my great speech! If you don't mind, I like to write something down as well. That way I don't have to use one of the school owls."

"Go ahead," and he gave me the letter.

Hey Dad,

Don't listen to Harry, he's lying.

But I agree with him! Don't come back, it's not worth it. Stay where you are and stay save.

Miss you to! Love you and give my love to uncle Moony if you see him!

Lots of love and kisses and hugs

Your Star

"I remember you saying something different last night," Harry said over my shoulder.

"People change. A good night sleep with Azkaban and Dementors can do that with you!" I replied.

I sealed the letter and went to stand up. "Ready?" I asked. Harry nodded.

We then climbed out of the portrait hole, up through the silent castle (held up only briefly by Peeves, who tried to overturn a large vase on us halfway along the fourth-floor corridor), finally arriving at the Owlery, which was situated at the top of West Tower.

The Owlery was a circular stone room, rather cold and drafty, because none of the windows had glass in them. The floor was entirely covered in straw, owl droppings, and the regurgitated skeletons of mice and voles. Hundreds upon hundreds of owls of every breed imaginable were nestled here on perches that rose right up to the top of the tower, nearly all of them asleep, though here and there a round amber eye glared at Harry and me. We spotted Hedwig nestled between a barn owl and a tawny, and hurried over to her, sliding a little on the dropping-strewn floor.

It took us a while to persuade her to wake up and then to look at Harry, as she kept shuffling around on her perch, showing us her tail. She was evidently still furious about his lack of gratitude the previous night. In the end, it was Harry suggesting she might be too tired, and that perhaps he would ask Ron to borrow Pigwidgeon, that made her stick out her leg and allow him to tie the letter to it.

"Just find him, all right?" Harry said, stroking her back as he carried her on his arm to one of the holes in the wall. "Before the Dementors do."

She nipped his finger, but hooted softly in a reassuring sort of way all the same. Then she spread her wings and took off into the sunrise. We watched her fly out of sight with the familiar feeling of unease back in our stomach.

"That was a lie, Harry," said Hermione sharply over breakfast, when he told her and Ron what he had done. "You didn't imagine your scar hurting and you know it."

"So what?" said Harry. "He's not going back to Azkaban because of me."

"Drop it," said Ron sharply to Hermione as she opened her mouth to argue some more, and for once, Hermione heeded him, and fell silent. We didn't tell them that I was involved.

I did my best not to worry about dad over the next couple of weeks. True, I could not stop myself from looking anxiously around every morning when the post owls arrived, nor, late at night before I went to sleep, prevent myself from seeing horrible visions of dad, cornered by Dementors down some dark London street, but between times I tried to keep my mind off my father.

On the other hand, our lessons were becoming more difficult and demanding than ever before, particularly Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts.

To our surprise, Professor Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.

"But - but you said it's illegal, Professor," said Hermione uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. "You said - to use it against another human was -"

"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," said Moody, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way - when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely - fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."

He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Hermione went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave. Harry and Ron grinned at each other. I shook my head. We knew Hermione would rather eat bubotuber pus than miss such an important lesson.

Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. I watched as, one by one, my classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.

"Potter," Moody growled, "you next."

Harry moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, "Imperio!"

Harry stood there, he seemed relaxed. He bended his knees like he was ready to jump. He jumped but it wasn't high enough. He smashed headlong into the desk, knocking it over and I guess he really hurt his knees by the look on his face.

"Now, that's more like it!" growled Moody's voice, "Look at that, you lot… Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention - watch his eyes, that's where you see it - very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling you!"

Moody put Harry under the curse four times in a row, until Harry could throw off the curse entirely. After that, the lesson was over. Thank god I didn't have to do it. You never know what Moody would to or ask.

"The way he talks," Harry muttered as he hobbled out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class an hour later, "you'd think we were all going to be attacked any second."

"Yeah, I know," said Ron, who was skipping on every alternate step.

He had had much more difficulty with the curse than Harry, though Moody assured him the effects would wear off by lunchtime. "Talk about paranoid…" Ron glanced nervously over his shoulder to check that Moody was definitely out of earshot and went on. "No wonder they were glad to get shot of him at the Ministry. Did you hear him telling Seamus what he did to that witch who shouted 'Boo' behind him on April Fools' Day? And when are we supposed to read up on resisting the Imperius Curse with everything else we've got to do?"

All the fourth years had noticed a definite increase in the amount of work we were required to do this term. Professor McGonagall explained why, when the class gave a particularly loud groan at the amount of Transfiguration homework she had assigned.

"You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education!" she told us, her eyes glinting dangerously behind her square spectacles. "Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer —"

"We don't take O.W.L.s till fifth year!" said Dean Thomas indignantly.

"Maybe not, Thomas, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Granger and miss Black remain the only persons in this class who have managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that your pincushion, Thomas, still curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!"

Hermione, who had turned rather pink again, seemed to be trying not to look too pleased with herself. I just smiled.

Harry and Ron were deeply amused when Professor Trelawney told them that they had received top marks for their homework in their next Divination class. She read out large portions of their predictions, commending them for their unflinching acceptance of the horrors in store for them - but they were less amused when she asked them to do the same thing for the month after next; both of them were running out of ideas for catastrophes. I didn't receive the same marks, but I can still make my homework without worrying about running out of idea's. Ofcourse I will put in made up stuff. I want top marks to!

Meanwhile Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, had us writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Professor Snape was forcing us to research antidotes. We took this one seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked. When he said this, he was looking in the direction of Harry and me. Three guesses on who's going to be the lucky one.

Professor Flitwick had asked us to read three extra books in preparation for our lesson on Summoning Charms. Even Hagrid was adding to our workload. The Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable pace given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate. Hagrid was delighted, and as part of their "project," suggested that they come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behavior.

"I will not," said Draco Malfoy flatly when Hagrid had proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack. "I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks."

Hagrid's smile faded off his face.

"Yeh'll do wha' yer told," he growled, "or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Professor Moody's book… I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy."

The Gryffindors roared with laughter. Malfoy flushed with anger, but apparently the memory of Moody's punishment was still sufficiently painful to stop him from retorting. Harry, Ron, Hermione and me returned to the castle at the end of the lesson in high spirits; seeing Hagrid put down Malfoy was particularly satisfying, especially because Malfoy had done his very best to get Hagrid sacked the previous year.

When we arrived in the entrance hall, we found ourselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase. Ron, the tallest of us four, stood on tiptoe to see over the heads in front of them and read the sign aloud to the us:

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY –

"Brilliant!" said Harry. "It's Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won't have time to poison us all!"

STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.

"Only a week away!" said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him…"

"Cedric?" said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off.

"Diggory," said Harry. "He must be entering the tournament."

"That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" said Ron as we pushed our way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase.

"He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," said Hermione. "I've heard he's a really good student - and he's a prefect."

She spoke as though this settled the matter.

"You only like him because he's handsome," said Ron scathingly.

"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" said Hermione indignantly.

Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like "Lockhart!"

"Besides, it doesn't matter what if I like him or not. He's Aurora's boyfriend!" she said with a smile.

"Hermione, he's not my boyfriend!" I said, glaring at her.

"Really, than tell me, why is it that everytime you pass in the hallway, you chat and he kisses you when you have to go. If you ask me, that evidence! He is your boyfriend!" she said.

She right, we do talk a lot and he does kiss me everytime. Maybe he is my boyfriend. And I have to confess. I have these butterflies in my stomach everytime he kisses me.

"I still can't believe that Diggory and you are a couple," Ron said. Harry said nothing but he kinda looked sad.

The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, no matter where I went: the Triwizard Tournament.

Rumors were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves. I noticed too that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics. Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too.

"Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.

When we went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, we found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffiindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and me sat down beside Fred and George at the Gryffindor table. Once again, and most unusually, they were sitting apart from everyone else and conversing in low voices. Ron led the way over to them.

"It's a bummer, all right," George was saying gloomily to Fred. "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."

"Who's avoiding you?" said Ron, sitting down next to them.

"Wish you would," said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption.

"What's a bummer?" Ron asked George.

"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," said George.

"You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?" Harry asked. "Thought any more about trying to enter?"

"I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn't telling," said George bitterly. "She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon."

"Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" said Ron thoughtfully. "You know, I bet we could do them, Harry. We've done dangerous stuff before…"

"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't," said Fred. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."

"Who are the judges?" Harry asked.

"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," said Hermione, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised, "because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage."

She noticed us all looking at her and said, with her usual air of impatience that nobody else had read all the books she had, "It's all in Hogwarts, A History. Though, of course, that book's not entirely reliable. A Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more accurate title. Or A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School."

"What are you on about?" said Ron, though I thought I knew what was coming.

"House-elves!" said Hermione, her eyes flashing. "Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!"

I shook my head and applied myself to my scrambled eggs. Harry's, Ron's and my lack of enthusiasm had done nothing whatsoever to curb Hermione's determination to pursue justice for house-elves. True, the three of us had paid two Sickles for a S.P.E.W. badge, but we had only done it to keep her quiet.

Our Sickles had been wasted, however; if anything, they seemed to have made Hermione more vociferous. She had been badgering Harry , Ron and me ever since, first to wear the badges, then to persuade others to do the same, and she had also taken to rattling around the Gryffindor common room every evening, cornering people and shaking the collecting tin under their noses.

"You do realize that your sheets are changed, your fires lit, your classrooms cleaned, and your food cooked by a group of magical creatures who are unpaid and enslaved?" she kept saying fiercely.

Some people, like Neville, had paid up just to stop Hermione from glowering at them. A few seemed mildly interested in what she had to say, but were reluctant to take a more active role in campaigning. Many regarded the whole thing as a joke. Ron now rolled his eyes at the ceiling, which was flooding them all in autumn sunlight, and Fred became extremely interested in his bacon (both twins had refused to buy a S.P.E.W. badge). George, however, leaned in toward Hermione.

"Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?"

"No, of course not," said Hermione curtly, "I hardly think students are supposed to -"

"Well, we have," said George, indicating Fred, "loads of times, to nick food. And we've met them, and they're happy. They think they've got the best job in the world -"

"That's because they're uneducated and brainwashed!" Hermione began hotly, but her next few words were drowned out by the sudden whooshing noise from overhead, which announced the arrival of the post owls. I looked up at once, and saw Hedwig soaring toward Harry. Hermione stopped talking abruptly; she, Ron and me watched Hedwig anxiously as she fluttered down onto Harry's shoulder, folded her wings, and held out her leg wearily.

Harry pulled off Sirius's reply and offered Hedwig his bacon rinds, which she ate gratefully. Then, checking that Fred and George were safely immersed in further discussions about the Triwizard Tournament, Harry read out Sirius's letter in a whisper to Ron, Hermione and me.

_Nice try, Harry. And thank you Aurora for being honest._

_I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar._

_Sirius_

"Why d'you have to keep changing owls?" Ron asked in a low voice.

"Hedwig'll attract too much attention," said Hermione at once. "She stands out. A snowy owl that keeps returning to wherever he's hiding… I mean, they're not native birds, are they? And what does he means: thank you, Aurora, for being honest?"

"I told him that Harry was lying. Harry knows this!" I said.

I wondered whether I felt more or less worried than before. I suppose that dad managing to get back without being caught was something. I couldn't deny either that the idea that dad was much nearer was reassuring; at least I wouldn't have to wait so long for a response every time I wrote.

"Thanks, Hedwig," Harry said, stroking her. She hooted sleepily, dipped her beak briefly into his goblet of orange juice, then took off again, clearly desperate for a good long sleep in the Owlery.

There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even Potions was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Harry, Ron, Hermione and me hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited our bags and books as we had been instructed, pulled on our cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.

The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.

"Weasley, straighten your hat," Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."

Parvati scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait.

"Follow me, please," said Professor McGonagall. "First years in front… no pushing…"

We filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. I, standing between Harry and Hermione in the fourth row from the front, saw Dennis Creevey positively shivering with anticipation among the other first years.

"Nearly six," said Ron, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"

"I doubt it," said Hermione.

"How, then? Broomsticks?" Harry suggested, looking up at the starry sky.

"I don't think so… not from that far away…" I said.

"A Portkey?" Ron suggested. "Or they could Apparate - maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?"

"You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?" said Hermione impatiently.

We scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quite as usual. I was starting to feel cold. I wished they'd hurry up… Maybe the foreign students were preparing a dramatic entrance… I remembered what Mr. Weasley had said back at the campsite before the Quidditch World Cup: "always the same - we can't resist showing off when we get together…"

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers - "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

"There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick - or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks - was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid… it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey.

Dennis's guess was closer…

As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powderblue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed - then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

I just had time to see that the door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened. A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then I saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage - a shoe the size of a child's sled - followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman I had ever seen in my life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.

I had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in my life, and that was Hagrid; I doubted whether there was an inch difference in their heights. Yet somehow - maybe simply because I was used to Hagrid - this woman (now at the foot of the steps, and looking around at the waiting, wide-eyed crowd) seemed even more unnaturally large. As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dort," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.

"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

I now noticed that about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. From what I could see of them (they were standing in Madame Maxime's enormous shadow), they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.

"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," said Madame Maxime. "But ze 'orses -"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other - er - charges."

"Skrewts," Ron muttered to us, grinning.

"My steeds require - er - forceful 'andling," said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong…"

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Very well," said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," said Dumbledore, also bowing.

"Come," said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" Seamus Finnigan said, leaning around Lavender and Parvati to address Harry and Ron.

"Well, if they're any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid won't be able to handle them," said Harry. "That's if he hasn't been attacked by his skrewts. Wonder what's up with them?"

"Maybe they've escaped," said Ron hopefully.

"Oh don't say that," said Hermione with a shudder. "Imagine that lot loose on the grounds…"

We stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky.

For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then - "Can you hear something?" said Ron suddenly. I listened; a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed.

"The lake!" yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"

From our position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, we had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water - except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks - and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor… What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool…

"It's a mast!" Harry said to us.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, we heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; we could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, I noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle… but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, I saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle we saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and I noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "How good it is to be here, how good… Viktor, come along, into the warmth… you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…"

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, I caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows.

I didn't the hiss fromRon, to recognize that profile.

"Harry - it's Krum!"

**A/N: there chapter 11 done. Please review! Thank you!**


	12. The Goblet of Fire

**A/N: I don't own anything**

**Chapter 12: The Goblet of Fire**

"I don't believe it!" Ron said, in a stunned voice, as the Hogwarts students filed back up the steps behind the party from Durmstrang. "Krum, Harry! Viktor Krum!"

"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," said Hermione.

"Only a Quidditch player?" Ron said, looking at her as though he couldn't believe his ears. "Hermione he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at school!"

As we recrossed the entrance hall with the rest of the Hogwarts students heading for the Great Hall, I saw Lee Jordan jumping up and down on the soles of his feet to get a better look at the back of Krum's head.

Several sixth-year girls were frantically searching their pockets as they walked"Oh I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me"

"D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"

"Really," Hermione said loftily as we passed the girls, now squabbling over the lipstick.

"I'm getting his autograph if I can," said Ron. "You haven't got a quill, have you, Harry?"

"Nope, they're upstairs in my bag," said Harry.

"Aurora?"

"Sorry Ron, I don't have one with me." I said.

"Hermione, you must have one with you, I mean, it's you?" Ron asked Hermione.

"What do you mean by that? I don't have one!" Hermione said, glaring at Ron.

We walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down. Ron took care to sit on the side facing the doorway, because Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students were still gathered around it, apparently unsure about where they should sit. The students from Beauxbatons had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table. They were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads.

"It's not that cold," said Hermione defensively. "Why didn't they bring cloaks?"

"I don't know," I said.

"Over here! Come and sit over here!" Ron hissed. "Over here! Hermione, budge up, make a space"

"What?"

"Too late," said Ron bitterly.

Viktor Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students had settled themselves at the Slytherin table. I could see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle looking very smug about this. As I watched, Malfoy bent forward to speak to Krum.

"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Malfoy," said Ron scathingly. "I bet Krum can see right through him, though… bet he gets people fawning over him all the time… Where d'you reckon they're going to sleep? We could offer him a space in our dormitory, Harry… I wouldn't mind giving him my bed, I could kip on a camp bed."

I rolled my eyes. Fan girl?

"They look a lot happier than the Beauxbatons lot," said Harry. The Durmstrang students were pulling off their heavy furs and looking up at the starry black ceiling with expressions of interest; a couple of them were picking up the golden plates and goblets and examining them, apparently impressed.

Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was adding chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occasion.

"But there are only two extra people," Harry said. "Why's Filch putting out four chairs, who else is coming?"

"The jury perhaps?" I said.

"Eh?" said Ron vaguely. He was still staring avidly at Krum.

When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and most particularly guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.

"No one's making you stay!" Hermione whispered, bristling at her. I couldn't agree more.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

He sat down, and I saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation. The plates in front of us filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than I had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

"What's that?" said Ron, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.

"Bouillabaisse," said Hermione.

"Bless you," said Ron.

"It's French," said Hermione, "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."

"I'll take your word for it," said Ron, helping himself to black pudding.

The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there; perhaps it was because their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts' robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep bloodred.

Hagrid sidled into the Hall through a door behind the staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. He slid into his seat at the end and waved at Harry, Ron, Hermione and me with a very heavily bandaged hand.

"Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?" Harry called.

"Thrivin'," Hagrid called back happily.

"Yeah, I'll just bet they are," said Ron quietly. "Looks like they've finally found a food they like, doesn't it? Hagrid's fingers."

"As long as we don't have to give them any fingers, I'm ok with that," I said. The rest laughed.

At that moment, a voice said, "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

It was the girl from Beauxbatons who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech. She had finally removed her muffler. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth.

Ron went purple. He stared up at her, opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except a faint gurgling noise.

"Yeah, have it," said Harry, pushing the dish toward the girl.

"You 'ave finished wiz it?"

"Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent."

The girl picked up the dish and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table. Ron was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before.

Harry started to laugh. The sound seemed to jog Ron back to his senses.

"She's a veela!" he said hoarsely to Harry.

"Of course she isn't!" said Hermione tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!"

But she wasn't entirely right about that. As the girl crossed the Hall, many boys' heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Ron.

"I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" said Ron, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"

"They make them okay at Hogwarts," said Harry. He glanced at me and then at the Ravenclaw table. What?

"When you've both put your eyes back in," said Hermione briskly, "you'll be able to see who's just arrived."

She was pointing up at the staff table. The two remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff's other side, while Mr. Crouch, Percy's boss, was next to Madame Maxime. "What are they doing here?" said Harry in surprise.

"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" said Hermione. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."

When the second course arrived we noticed a number of unfamiliar desserts too. Ron examined an odd sort of pale blancmange closely, then moved it carefully a few inches to his right, so that it would be clearly visible from the Ravenclaw table. The girl who looked like a veela appeared to have eaten enough, however, and did not come over to get it.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. I felt a slight thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming. Several seats down from us, Fred and George were leaning forward, staring at Dumbledore with great concentration.

"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket"

"The what?" Harry muttered.

Ron shrugged.

"- just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation there was a smattering of polite applause"and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. Remembering him in his neat suit at the Quidditch World Cup, I thought he looked strange in wizard's robes. His toothbrush mustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen.

Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students; Dennis Creevey actually stood on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his head hardly rose above anyone else's.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways… their magical prowess their daring their powers of deduction and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line."

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

"An Age Line!" Fred Weasley said, his eyes glinting, as we all made our way across the Hall to the doors into the entrance hall. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not!"

"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," said Hermione, "we just haven't learned enough…"

"Speak for yourself," said George shortly. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Harry?"

"Where is he?" said Ron, who wasn't listening to a word of this conversation, but looking through the crowd to see what had become of Krum. "Dumbledore didn't say where the Durmstrang people are sleeping, did he?"

But this query was answered almost instantly; we were level with the Slytherin table now, and Karkaroff had just bustled up to his students.

"Back to the ship, then," he was saying. "Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?"

I saw Krum shake his head as he pulled his furs back on. "Professor, I vood like some vine," said one of the other Durmstrang boys hopefully.

"I wasn't offering it to you, Poliakoff," snapped Karkaroff, his warmly paternal air vanishing in an instant. "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy"

Karkaroff turned and led his students toward the doors, reaching them at exactly the same moment as Harry, Ron, Hermione and me. Harry stopped to let him walk through first.

"Thank you," said Karkaroff carelessly, glancing at him. And then Karkaroff froze. He turned his head back to Harry and stared at him as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Behind their headmaster, the students from Durmstrang came to a halt too. Karkaroff's eyes moved slowly up Harry's face and fixed upon his scar.

The Durmstrang students were staring curiously at Harry too. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw comprehension dawn on a few of their faces. The boy with food all down his front nudged the girl next to him and pointed openly at Harry's forehead.

"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," said a growling voice from behind us.

Professor Karkaroff spun around. Mad-Eye Moody was standing there, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang headmaster. The color drained from Karkaroff's face as I watched. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came over him.

"You!" he said, staring at Moody as though unsure he was really seeing him.

"Me," said Moody grimly. "And unless you've got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway."

It was true; half the students in the Hall were now waiting behind us, looking over one another's shoulders to see what was causing the holdup.

Without another word, Professor Karkaroff swept his students away with him. Moody watched him until he was out of sight, his magical eye fixed upon his back, a look of intense dislike upon his mutilated face.

As the next day was Saturday, most students would normally have breakfasted late. Harry, Ron, Hermione and me, however, were not alone in rising much earlier than we usually did on weekends. When we went down into the entrance hall, we saw about twenty people milling around it, some of them eating toast, all examining the Goblet of Fire. It had been placed in the center of the hall on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.

"Anyone put their name in yet?" Ron asked a third-year girl eagerly.

"All the Durmstrang lot," she replied. "But I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts yet."

"Bet some of them put it in last night after we'd all gone to bed," said Harry. "I would've if it had been me… wouldn't have wanted everyone watching. What if the goblet just gobbed you right back out again?"

Someone laughed behind Harry. Turning, we saw Fred, George, and Lee Jordan hurrying down the staircase, all three of them looking extremely excited.

"Done it," Fred said in a triumphant whisper to Harry, Ron, Hermione and me. "Just taken it."

"What?" said Ron.

"The Aging Potion, dung brains," said Fred.

"One drop each," said George, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We only need to be a few months older."

"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," said Lee, grinning broadly.

"I'm not sure this is going to work, you know," said Hermione warningly. "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this."

Fred, George, and Lee ignored her.

"Ready?" Fred said to the other two, quivering with excitement. "C'mon, then I'll go first"

I watched, fascinated, as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words Fred Weasley Hogwarts. Fred walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.

For a split second I thought it had worked George certainly thought so, for he let out a yell of triumph and leapt after Fred but next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot-putter. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.

The entrance hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards. Who knew that Professor Dumbledore would be a prankster.

"I did warn you," said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and me, also chortling, went in to breakfast.

The decorations in the Great Hall had changed this morning. As it was Halloween, a cloud of live bats was fluttering around the enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner. Harry led the way over to Dean and Seamus, who were discussing those Hogwarts students of seventeen or over who might be entering.

"There's a rumor going around that Warrington got up early and put his name in," Dean told Harry. "That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth."

Harry shook his head in disgust.

"We can't have a Slytherin champion!"

"And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory," said Seamus contemptuously, looking at me. "But I wouldn't have thought he'd have wanted to risk his good looks."

"Listen!" said Hermione suddenly.

People were cheering out in the entrance hall. We all swiveled around in our seats and saw Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. A tall black girl who played Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Angelina came over to them, sat down, and said, "Well, I've done it! Just put my name in!"

"You're kidding!" said Ron, looking impressed.

"Are you seventeen, then?" asked Harry.

"Course she is, can't see a beard, can you?" said Ron.

"I had my birthday last week," said Angelina.

"Well, I'm glad someone from Gryffindor's entering," said Hermione. "I really hope you get it, Angelina!"

"Thanks, Hermione," said Angelina, smiling at her.

"Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory," said Seamus, causing several Hufflepuffs passing their table to scowl heavily at him.

"Stop it!" I said, glaring at him, "Cedric is a nice guy!"

"Yeah, because you are dating him. Tell me you don't want a Gryffindor to win!" Seamus said to me.

"Off course I want a Gryffindor to win! But you have to stop saying bad things about Cedric. He hasn't done anything wrong!"

Seamus just glared at me and turned the other way. Dean smiled at me with a shrug. Ignore him, he mouthed to me. I smiled back at him. Dean was nice to me as were most of the others students. But still have some troubles with me, like Seamus.

"What're we going to do today, then?" Ron asked Harry, Hermione and when we had finished breakfast and were leaving the Great Hall.

"We haven't been down to visit Hagrid yet," said Harry.

"Okay," said Ron, "just as long as he doesn't ask us to donate a few fingers to the skrewts."

A look of great excitement suddenly dawned on Hermione's face.

"I've just realized I haven't asked Hagrid to join S.P.E.W. yet!" she said brightly.

"Wait for me, will you, while I nip upstairs and get the badges?"

"What is it with her?" said Ron, exasperated, as Hermione ran away up the marble staircase.

"Hey, Ron," said Harry suddenly. "It's your friend…"

The students from Beauxbatons were coming through the front doors from the grounds, among them, the veela-girl. Those gathered around the Goblet of Fire stood back to let them pass, watching eagerly.

Madame Maxime entered the hall behind her students and organized them into a line. One by one, the Beauxbatons students stepped across the Age Line and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames. As each name entered the fire, it turned briefly red and emitted sparks.

"What d'you reckon'll happen to the ones who aren't chosen?" Ron muttered to Harry as the veela-girl dropped her parchment into the Goblet of Fire. "Reckon they'll go back to school, or hang around to watch the tournament?"

"Dunno," said Harry. "Hang around, I suppose… Madame Maxime's staying to judge, isn't she?"

When all the Beauxbatons students had submitted their names, Madame Maxime led them back out of the hall and out onto the grounds again.

"Where are they sleeping, then?" said Ron, moving toward the front doors and staring after them.

"I'm guessing in that carriage they came in," I said.

A loud rattling noise behind us announced Hermione's reappearance with the box of S.P.E.W. badges.

"Oh good, hurry up," said Ron, and he jumped down the stone steps, keeping his eyes on the back of the veela-girl, who was now halfway across the lawn with Madame Maxime.

As we neared Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the mystery of the Beauxbatons' sleeping quarters was solved. I was right. The gigantic powder-blue carriage in which they had arrived had been parked two hundred yards from Hagrid's front door, and the students were climbing back inside it. The elephantine flying horses that had pulled the carriage were now grazing in a makeshift paddock alongside it. Harry knocked on Hagrid's door, and Fang's booming barks answered instantly.

"Bout time!" said Hagrid, when he'd flung open the door. "Thought you lot'd forgotten where I live!"

"We've been really busy, Hag Hermione started to say, but then she stopped dead, looking up at Hagrid, apparently lost for words.

Hagrid was wearing his best (and very horrible) hairy brown suit, plus a checked yellow-and-orange tie. This wasn't the worst of it, though; he had evidently tried to tame his hair, using large quantities of what appeared to be axle grease. It was now slicked down into two bunches perhaps he had tried a ponytail like Bill's, but found he had too much hair. The look didn't really suit Hagrid at all. For a moment, Hermione goggled at him, then, obviously deciding not to comment, she said, "Erm where are the skrewts."

"Out by the pumpkin patch," said Hagrid happily. "They're get-tin' massive, mus' be nearly three foot long now. On'y trouble is, they've started killin' each other."

"Oh no, really?" said Hermione, shooting a repressive look at Ron, who, staring at Hagrid's odd hairstyle, had just opened his mouth to say something about it. I stepped on his foot so he would shut up. He threw me a glare.

"Yeah," said Hagrid sadly. "S' okay, though, I've got 'em in separate boxes now. Still got abou' twenty."

"Well, that's lucky," said Ron. Hagrid missed the sarcasm. I had to think of something else or I would have burst into laughter.

Hagrid's cabin comprised a single room, in one corner of which was a gigantic bed covered in a patchwork quilt. A similarly enormous wooden table and chairs stood in front of the fire beneath the quantity of cured hams and dead birds hanging from the ceiling. we sat down at the table while Hagrid started to make tea, and were soon immersed in yet more discussion of the Triwizard Tournament. Hagrid seemed quite as excited about it as we were.

"You wait," he said, grinning. "You jus' wait. Yer going ter see some stuff yeh've never seen before. Firs' task… ah, but I'm not supposed ter say."

"Go on, Hagrid!" Harry, Ron, Hermione and me urged him, but he just shook his head, grinning.

"I don' want ter spoil it fer yeh," said Hagrid. "But it's gonna be spectacular, I'll tell yeh that. Them champions're going ter have their work cut out. Never thought I'd live ter see the Triwizard Tournament played again!"

We ended up having lunch with Hagrid, though we didn't eat much Hagrid had made what he said was a beef casserole, but after Hermione unearthed a large talon in hers, she, Harry, and Ron rather lost their appetites. I was luckily he had some bread otherwise I didn't have anything to eat. However, we enjoyed ourselves trying to make Hagrid tell us what the tasks in the tournament were going to be, speculating which of the entrants were likely to be selected as champions, and wondering whether Fred and George were beardless yet. A light rain had started to fall by midafternoon; it was very cozy sitting by the fire, listening to the gentle patter of the drops on the window, watching Hagrid darning his socks and arguing with Hermione about house-elves for he flatly refused to join S.P.E.W. when she showed him her badges.

"It'd be doin'em an unkindness, Hermione," he said gravely, threading a massive bone needle with thick yellow yarn. "It's in their nature ter look after humans, that's what they like, see? Yeh'd be makin'em unhappy ter take away their work, an' insutin'em if yeh tried ter pay 'em."

"But Harry set Dobby free, and he was over the moon about it!" said Hermione. "And we heard he's asking for wages now!"

"Yeah, well, yeh get weirdos in every breed. I'm not sayin' there isn't the odd elf who'd take freedom, but yeh'll never persuade most of 'em ter do it no, nothin' doin', Hermione."

Hermione looked very cross indeed and stuffed her box of badges back into her cloak pocket.

By half past five it was growing dark, and Ron, Harry, Hermione and me decided it was time to get back up to the castle for the Halloween feast and, more important, the announcement of the school champions.

"I'll come with yeh," said Hagrid, putting away his darning. "Jus' give us a sec."

Hagrid got up, went across to the chest of drawers beside his bed, and began searching for something inside it. We didn't pay too much attention until a truly horrible smell reached our nostrils. Coughing, Ron said, "Hagrid, what's that?"

"Eh?" said Hagrid, turning around with a large bottle in his hand. "Don' yeh like it?"

No, I thought, it was terrible.

"Is that aftershave?" said Hermione in a slightly choked voice.

"Er eau de cologne," Hagrid muttered. He was blushing.

"Maybe it's a bit much," he said gruffly. "I'll go take it off, hang on…"

He stumped out of the cabin, and we saw him washing himself vigorously in the water barrel outside the window.

"Eau de cologne?" said Hermione in amazement. "Hagrid?"

"And what's with the hair and the suit?" said Harry in an undertone.

"Look!" said Ron suddenly, pointing out of the window. Hagrid had just straightened up and turned 'round. If he had been blushing before, it was nothing to what he was doing now. Getting to our feet very cautiously, so that Hagrid wouldn't spot us, we peered through the window and saw that Madame Maxime and the Beauxbatons students had just emerged from their carriage, clearly about to set off for the feast too. We couldn't hear what Hagrid was saying, but he was talking to Madame Maxime with a rapt, misty-eyed expression.

"He's going up to the castle with her!" said Hermione indignantly. "I thought he was waiting for us!"

Without so much as a backward glance at his cabin, Hagrid was trudging off up the grounds with Madame Maxime, the Beaux-batons students following in their wake, jogging to keep up with their enormous strides.

"He fancies her!" said Ron incredulously. "Well, if they end up having children, they'll be setting a world record bet any baby of theirs would weigh about a ton."

"Ah, young love," I said.

We let ourselves out of the cabin and shut the door behind us. It was surprisingly dark outside. Drawing our cloaks more closely around ourselves, we set off up the sloping lawns.

"Ooh it's them, look!" Hermione whispered.

The Durmstrang party was walking up toward the castle from the lake. Viktor Krum was walking side by side with Karkaroff, and the other Durmstrang students were straggling along behind them. Ron watched Krum excitedly, but Krum did not look around as he reached the front doors a little ahead of Hermione, Ron, Harry and me and proceeded through them.

When we entered the candlelit Great Hall it was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table. Fred and George clean-shaven again seemed to have taken their disappointment fairly well.

"Hope it's Angelina," said Fred as Harry, Ron, Hermione and me sat down.

"So do I!" said Hermione breathlessly. "Well, we'll soon know!"

The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Perhaps because it was our second feast in two days, I didn't seem to fancy the extravagantly prepared food as much as I would have normally. Like everyone else in the Hall, judging by the constantly craning necks, the impatient expressions on every face, the fidgeting, and the standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet, I simply wanted the plates to clear, and to hear who had been selected as champions.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber he indicated the door behind the staff table"where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging us into a state of semidarkness.

The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting… A few people kept checking their watches…

"Any second," Lee Jordan whispered, two seats away from Harry.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

"No surprises there!" yelled Ron as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. I saw Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

"It's her, Ron!" Harry shouted as the girl who so resembled a veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Hermione said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party. "Disappointed" was a bit of an understatement, I thought. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next…

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

"No!" said Ron loudly, but nobody heard him except me; the uproar from the next table was too great. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers' table. but halfway there, he turned around and walked towards us. He stopped in front of me, pulled me to my feet and kissed me full on the lips. I put my arms around his neck and kissed him back. He pulled away and grinned. With a last peck on the lips he walked towards the chamber. The applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

I felt dazed and didn't hear the noise. Hermione pulled me back down and smiled wide at me. I smiled back. I was very happy.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real"

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.

The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out"Harry Potter."

**A/N: And here is chapter 12. Hope you liked it! Please let me know, so review!**


	13. The Four Champions

**A/N: I don't own anything**

**Thank you for all the great reviews!**

**Chapter 13: The Four Champions**

I just sat there, all the feelings from a moment ago gone. I was stunned. I felt numb. I was surely dreaming. I had not heard correctly. He didn't just say Harry's name, he just didn't! I looked at Harry, he was sitting there, equally stunned. He was paler than before.

There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat. Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly. Harry turned to Ron, Hermione and; beyond him, I saw the long Gryffindor table all watching him, openmouthed.

"I didn't put my name in," Harry said blankly. "You know I didn't."

Ron and Hermione stared just as blankly back.

"I believe you Harry," I said.

At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.

"Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," Hermione whispered, giving Harry a slight push.

Harry got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes, and stumbled slightly. He set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. Hundreds and hundreds of eyes were upon him, as though each were a searchlight. The buzzing grew louder and louder. After what seemed like an hour, he was right in front of Dumbledore, all the teachers staring at him.

"Well… through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling. Harry moved off along the teachers' table. Hagrid was seated right at the end. He did not wink at Harry, or wave, or give any of his usual signs of greeting. He looked completely astonished and stared at Harry as he passed like everyone else. Harry went through the door out of the Great Hall, it was deadly silent in the Hall.

I looked back at Hermione and Ron, disbelieve written on my face. I could see the same on their faces. Hermione looked shocked and had a glimpse of fear on her face. I remember or words, people have died in this Tournament. I groaned and put my head in the table. Why Harry? why is it always him?

"Aurora?" a voice asked quit. A hand was placed on my shoulder. I looked up and looked right into the eyes of Hermione.

"You really believe him? That he didn't do it?"

"Yes, I believe him. I own him that. Especially after what he did for me last year. He give me the benefit of the doubt. So I'm going to the same for him. I believe him. I don't think he wants this! You should now that Hermione, you now him longer than I do." I said to her.

"Your right, I believe him to. It's just so …" she was searching for the right word.

"Frustrating? Because it's always Harry?" I said.

"Yes! Do you think they're going to let them compete? I mean, they can't do that right? There has to be something." Hermione looked at me with fear in her eyes.

"I honestly don't know. I don't know the exact rules, so I don't know!" I groaned. Is there nothing we can do?

"Dumbledore will think of something right? He will get him out of there, so he doesn't have to compete!" Hermione said.

"Why would he do that? I mean Harry entered himself. He wants the glory, the fame, the price money. You really think he didn't do it? You're both mental!" an angry voice said.

We both looked sideways and saw Ron staring at us, furious.

"What are you saying Ron?" I asked wary.

"It's obvious, Harry is lying! He did do it! Why he is trying to lie to us, I don't get it. I wonder how he get past the Age Line? I reckon he used the Cloak! He could have taken me under it, I mean we've done it before. I can't believe he .."

I couldn't hear it anymore. I slapped him across the face. I was breathing hard. Around us voices died down. Ron stared at me with his mouth open. Hermione had both of her hands in front of her mouth. She was looking between us.

"I can't believe you just said that!" I said coldly. "He's your best friend, for crying out loud!"

"Not anymore if is going to keep lying. And don't you ever try to hit me again!" Ron shouted at me.

"Fine, I won't! but you have to keep your big mouth shut, you hear me! And stay away from me and Harry. You bloody prat!" I shouted back.

"I bet you've helped him! You would know all about things like this, don't you? With your father!"

That was the last straw. I draw my wand and held it right between his eyes. He looked at me with fear clearly in his eyes.

"Give me an excuse and I will show what exactly my father taught me!" I said quietly and ice cold.

Ron gulped.

"Aurora, don't, please," Hermione said and she tucked at my arm, trying to get it down.

I looked at here and saw the tears in her eyes. I slowly let my arm fall back and put me wand away.

I looked at Ron and said to him, "You and I are finished! We are no longer friends. I hate you!"

"Fine, I don't want a crazy bitch like you to be friend anymore."

"Fine!" and I turned away from him.

I could see others looking at us. "What are you looking at?" I snapped. They all looked away very quickly. I sat there, staring at the door Harry went through.

Then the door opened and Professor McGonagall and Snape came out. Professor McGonagall walked to the front.

"All students return to your dorm right now. Prefects, please see to it!" she said and turned to the other teachers and begin to whisper to them.

Everybody stood up and went to the doors. Ron walking away with Dean and Seamus. Hermione stood by my side and looked at me.

"Are you coming, Aurora?" she asked me.

"I'm going to wait for Harry, you go ahead please."

"Aurora, I don't think…"

"Please Hermione," I looked up to her, pleading with me eyes.

She sighed and nodded. I saw that Neville was still standing close and was watching us. I gave him a nod and I he nodded back. He came to Hermione's side and took her arm.

"Come on Hermione, I forgot the password again and I need someone to help me," he said.

"Oh, all right." She said, "Will you be ok?" she asked me.

"I will, just give me some time. Thank you Neville." I said.

"It's nothing, please let Harry know that I believe him to!" Neville said.

"I will, thank you!" I smiled at him and they walked away.

I turned my attention back at that stupid door that won't open. And then Cedric and Harry walked out of the room. I stood up and I waited for them. I heard them talking to eachother.

"So," said Cedric, with a slight smile. "We're playing against each other again!"

"I s'pose," said Harry.

"So… tell me…" said Cedric as they reached the entrance hall, where I was waiting for them. "How did you get your name in?"

"I didn't," said Harry, staring up at him. "I didn't put it in. I was telling the truth."

"Ah… okay," said Cedric. I could tell Cedric didn't believe him. Then they both noticed me.

"Hey beautiful," Cedric said and he put his arms around me. He give me a kiss on the lips.

"Hey," I said back but then I walked out of his arms and went to Harry. I put my arms around him and hugged him close. His arms found his way around my back and pulled me even closer.

"I believe you Harry, I always will!" I whispered in his ear.

"Thank you, Aurora, you have no idea what that means to me," I said back.

We let go and smiled.

"So you believe him?" a voice behind me asked.

I turned around and looked at Cedric.

"Yes, I believe him. I have no reason not to! But don't worry," I said while walking to him and put my arms around him again, "I will cheer for both of you! I smiled.

"I can live with that," Cedric said and he kissed me again. He deepened the kiss and I felt his tongue against my lips, but before I could respond, a cough was heard behind us. Breaking apart, we tried to get our breath. Cedric smiled at me, kissed me quick on the lips and with a wave and wink he walked away.

When I was certain I had my heart back under control, I turned around to face Harry.

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly.

"No, I should be sorry," I said smiling. "Come on, let's go the dorm."

"So tell me, what happened?" I asked while we were walking, looking at him.

He sighed and looked at me with sad eyes. "I have to compete!"

"Yeah, I thought so, what happened in the chamber?"

"Well, the others weren't too happy. Fleur called me a little boy and that I was too young. Viktor didn't really say anything. Bagman was excited. Snape thinks it's my fault and thinks I did it, no surprise there. I've been crossing the lines from the moment I stepped in this castle. His words not mine. Dumbledore asked me if I did and if I asked an older student to do it. He believes so that's a relieve. I'm bound to the rules so I have to compete. Then they begin to speculate and Moody said somebody probally want's me dead so that person put my name in it."

At this point I interrupted him with a big, loud "WHAT!"

"You've got to be kidding me! Oh this is just great. As if I hadn't enough to worry about." I muttered.

Harry put his arm around me. "Don't worry Aurora, I'm still and I plan on staying alive!"

"Why are you so calm?" I asked.

"Probably because it haven't sunken in yet. Ask me again tomorrow and I will not be calm, I tell you that." He said.

I leaned into his touch. This feels nice, perfect. Wait, what? Why am I thinking like this? I'm with Cedric, so stop thinking like that!

"So what is the first task?" I asked.

"I don't know, they wouldn't tell us. All we know it's designed to test our daring. Something about courage is an important quality."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that, you have plenty of courage. I would even say that you have to much!" I said laughing.

Harry smiled down at me, "Thanks Aurora!"

"You're welcome," I said winking. Am I flirting? What the hell! "Go on."

"The task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and a jury. We can't ask our professors for help or accept any kind of help from them. we can only bring our wands, nothing else. We will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Because the tournament is so long, I don't have to my end-of-year tests. That's about is. Harry said.

Wow, that's a lot to take in.

"So, let me get it right. You can't ask or accept help from the professors but they didn't say anything about friends or students or anything like that?" I asked.

"No, they didn't mention them. Why are asking this?" Harry looked puzzled.

"Oh, Harry sometimes I wonder if you have a brain." I said, shaking my head.

"Oi!"

"Sorry," I said not feeling sorry at all. "I'm asking to be sure that there are no rules about me helping you. Hermione will help to, offcourse. We could ask uncle Moony and dad. We are going to make sure you don't die and hey, maybe you could win!"

"Aurora, you're the best!" Harry pulled me in a tight hug.

I laughed and he released me. I can see that his eyes aren't as dull anymore, his beautiful green eyes are sparkling. Wait, did I just say beautiful? I turned around and saw that we were right before the Fat Lady.

"Well, well, well," said the Fat Lady, "Violet's just told me everything. Who's just been chosen as school champion, then?"

"Balderdash," said Harry.

"It most certainly isn't!" said the pale witch indignantly.

"No, no, Vi, it's the password," said the Fat Lady soothingly, and she swung forward on her hinges to let Harry and me into the common room.

The blast of noise that met Harry's and my ears when the portrait opened almost knocked us backward. Next thing I knew, Harry was being wrenched inside the common room by about a dozen pairs of hands, and was facing the whole of Gryffindor House, all of whom were screaming, applauding, and whistling. I walked in by myself and went to Harry. Well, I tried but I couldn't get to the tight mass of bodies.

"You should've told us you'd entered!" bellowed Fred; he looked half annoyed, half deeply impressed.

"How did you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!" roared George.

"I didn't," Harry said. "I don't know how -"

But Angelina had now swooped down upon him; "Oh if it couldn't be me, at least it's a Gryffindor -"

"You'll be able to pay back Diggory for that last Quidditch match, Harry!" shrieked Katie Bell, another of the Gryffindor Chasers.

"We've got food, Harry, come and have some -"

"I'm not hungry, I had enough at the feast -"

But nobody wanted to hear that he wasn't hungry; nobody wanted to hear that he hadn't put his name in the goblet; not one single person seemed to have noticed that he wasn't at all in the mood to celebrate… Lee Jordan had unearthed a Gryffindor banner from somewhere, and he insisted on draping it around Harry like a cloak. Harry couldn't get away; whenever he tried to sidle over to the staircase up to the dormitories, the crowd around him closed ranks, forcing another butterbeer on him, stuffing crisps and peanuts into his hands… Everyone wanted to know how he had done it, how he had tricked Dumbledore's Age Line and managed to get his name into the goblet… I didn't get I chance to go to him, to help him. I yelled at people but hey wouldn't move. I was getting really irritated and I could see that harry wasn't far from an outburst.

"I didn't," he said, over and over again, "I don't know how it happened."

But for all the notice anyone took, he might just as well not have answered at all.

"I'm tired!" he bellowed finally, after nearly half an hour. "No, seriously, George - I'm going to bed -"

Insisting that he needed to sleep, and almost flattening the little Creevey brothers as they attempted to waylay him at the foot of the stairs, Harry managed to shake everyone off and climb up to the dormitory as fast as he could. I sighed, I couldn't get to him. Oh well, might as well turn in to. Maybe Hermione is there, because I didn't see her anywhere.

To my relief she was sitting on her bed, clearly waiting for me.

"So?" she asked.

I went to sat next to her.

"He has to compete. Dumbledore believes him. Cedric doesn't." I sighed.

"I thought so," she said.

"But we will help him, right?" I asked her.

"Offcourse!"

"Good, but we have one problem." I said.

"And that is?"

"We have no idea what the first task is, only that it's something to test their courage."

"Will figure it out, don't worry!" Hermione said.

"Eum, Aurora, what about Cedric? I mean he's your boyfriend. He's also in this tournament. Are you going to help him to?"

I thought about it, but I could only think about one answer.

"No, he can do it on his own. He's older and has friends, they can help him. Harry is going to need me more. I don't think he can't expect much help from the others, especially after what Ron said."

I suddenly realized something. I let myself fall on the bed and groaned.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"I forgot to tell Harry about Ron. How could I forget that!" I said.

"Well, I think it's too late now. I think he knows it already."

"Argh, this is not good!"

Parvati and Lavender walked in, talking to eachother. Then they spotted Hermione and me.

"Oh, Aurora, how could you!" Lavender said to me.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"How could you not tell us that you're dating Cedric Diggory!"

"Oh, that."

"Yes, that. That's very important information! I know there were rumors, but I just thought that they were untrue. I mean what he see in you! but I guess I was wrong. So tell me everything!" Lavender said.

"Why in the world would I tell you anything? You're not even my friend! Now if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

I gave Hermione an pointed look and went to get myself ready for bed. When I was sure Lavender and Parvati were asleep, I crept out of bed and walked to Hermione's. I think she heard me coming, because she opened the curtains when I reached her. I crept into her bed en went to sat at the end of her bed.

"So, are you going to tell me any details?" she asked smiling.

"It's was amazing." I said. "When they came out that chamber, he called me beautiful and kissed. Really kissed me. He even brushed his tongue against my lips, but before I could do anything Harry coughed and we broke apart."

"Oh no, really?" she asked giggling.

"Yes, but honestly I didn't mind it. I don't mind to wait a little longer. It's something to look for." I said smiling.

"I'm happy for you, Aurora!" Hermione said.

"How about you, Hermione? Somebody catch your eye?"

"No, o no." she said blushing.

"Sure," I said smirking.

"O hush you," she said while giving a slap on my arm.

We laughed. We talked for a little more but then we both yawned at the same time.

I hugged her and said goodnight. I went back to my own bed but I couldn't fall asleep right away. I was thinking about Harry and how he would feel about Ron. Maybe Ron came around after my slap. Then I had nothing to worry about, but knowing Ron, he probably didn't change. Poor Harry, his best friend, not believing in him.

I closed my eyes and I dreamed about a boy who was coming to me. The boy pulled me close and came closer to me. I could feel his breath on me. Before I could close my eyes, I saw green eyes in front of me and then I felt his lips.

**A/N: Chapter 13 is ready, finally. **

**So make me happy and review! Or I will unleash my crazy cat on you, trust you don't want that!**


	14. Confusing feelings, detention and kisses

**A/N: I'm so sorry about the very late update, but I had exams and parties and … But I'm back now!**

**Thanks so much for all your reviews, makes me want to write more **

**Also, the outfits are on my profile, so check them out.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. **

**Chapter 14: Confusing feelings, detentions and kissing **

When I woke up on Sunday morning, it took me a moment to remember why I felt so miserable and worried. Then the memory of the previous night rolled over me. I sat up and ripped back the curtains of my own four-poster. I saw that the others were already awake and went down to breakfast. I noticed that Hermione wasn't here either. Where was she?

I dressed myself and went down the spiral staircase into the common room. I looked around to see if Hermione or Harry was down here, but I didn't see them. Then the common room broke into applause. Harry was coming down the stairs. I looked so miserable and alone. He looked worried like he wasn't sure if coming down was the best idea. I made my way over him. When he saw me, his face broke out into a smile. His arms were half open and I just threw myself into his arms. His arms fastened around me as he pulled me closer to him. Suddenly I felt save and happy. I could stay here all day.

Wait what? Whoa, what am I thinking now? I shouldn't be thinking like this with Harry, I should be thinking this with Cedric. I loosened myself out of Harry's arms. I looked up into his eyes. They looked so sad.

"Are you ok?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said.

"Have you seen Ron?" I asked uncertain.

Anger flashed up in his eyes.

"Yes, the git doesn't believe me!" he said with his teeth clenched.

"I'm so sorry, Harry, I should have told you yesterday, but it totally slipped my mind with everything. He and I had a huge fight last night. He said some terrible things and now, um, well, we aren't friends anymore," I said to him.

"Are you ok?" he asked looking me in the eye.

"I will be when I have cleared my mind. But this isn't about me, Harry! This is about you!"

"I'll be fine when I cleared my mind," he said smiling.

I swatted him on the chest. "Git!"

He laughed and it felt good to hear his laugh.

I smiled and said, "Come on, let's go get some breakfast and find Hermione."

We walked over to the portrait hole, pushed it open, climbed out of it, and found ourselves face-to-face with Hermione.

"Hello," she said, holding up a stack of toast, which she was carrying in a napkin. "I brought this… Want to go for a walk?"

"Good idea," said Harry gratefully.

We went downstairs, crossed the entrance hall quickly without looking in at the Great Hall, and were soon striding across the lawn toward the lake, where the Durmstrang ship was moored, reflected blackly in the water. It was a chilly morning, and we kept moving, munching our toast, as Harry told Hermione exactly what had happened after he had left the Gryffindor table the night before. Even though I told her everything, she still wanted to hear it from Harry, in the exact words that had been spoken last night.

"Well, of course I knew you hadn't entered yourself," she said when he'd finished telling her about the scene in the chamber off the Hall. "The look on your face when Dumbledore read out your name! But the question is, who did put it in? Because Moody's right, Harry… I don't think any student could have done it… they'd never be able to fool the Goblet, or get over Dumbledore's -"

"Have you seen Ron?" Harry interrupted.

Hermione hesitated.

"Erm… yes… he was at breakfast," she said.

"Does he still think I entered myself?"

"Well… no, I don't think so… not really," said Hermione awkwardly.

"What's that supposed to mean, 'not really'?"

"Yeah, you heard him last night Hermione!" I said.

"Oh, isn't it obvious?" Hermione said despairingly. "He's jealous!"

"Jealous?" Harry said incredulously. "Jealous of what? He wants to make a prat of himself in front of the whole school, does he?"

"Look," said Hermione patiently, "it's always you who gets all the attention, you know it is. I know it's not your fault," she added quickly, seeing Harry open his mouth furiously. "I know you don't ask for it… but - well - you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and you're really famous - he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many…"

"Great," said Harry bitterly. "Really great. Tell him from me I'll swap any time he wants. Tell him from me he's welcome to it… People gawping at my forehead everywhere I go…"

"I'm not telling him anything," Hermione said shortly. "Tell him yourself. It's the only way to sort this out."

"I'm not running around after him trying to make him grow up!" Harry said, so loudly that several owls in a nearby tree took flight in alarm. "Maybe he'll believe I'm not enjoying myself once I've got my neck broken or -"

"That's not funny," said Hermione quietly. "That's not funny at all." She looked extremely anxious. "Harry, I've been thinking - you know what we've got to do, don't you? Straight away, the moment we get back to the castle?"

"Yeah, give Ron a good kick up the -"

"Hex him into obl-"

"Write to Sirius. You've got to tell him what's happened. He asked you to keep him posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts… It's almost as if he expected something like this to happen. I brought some parchment and a quill out with me -"

"Come off it," said Harry, looking around to check that we couldn't be overheard, but the grounds were quite deserted. "He came back to the country just because my scar twinged. He'll probably come bursting right into the castle if I tell him someone's entered me in the Triwizard Tournament -"

"He'd want you to tell him," said Hermione sternly. "He's going to find out anyway."

"How?"

"Harry, this isn't going to be kept quiet," said Hermione, very seriously. "This tournament's famous, and you're famous. I'll be really surprised if there isn't anything in the Daily Prophet about you competing… You're already in half the books about You-Know-Who, you know… and Sirius would rather hear it from you, I know he would."

"She's right you know. He would wanted to hear this from you. I don't think he'll storm the castle and we know he's already moving closer, so it wouldn't hurt writing to him," I said.

"Okay, okay, I'll write to him," said Harry, throwing his last piece of toast into the lake. We stood and watched it floating there for a moment, before a large tentacle rose out of the water and scooped it beneath the surface. Then we returned to the castle.

"Whose owl am I going to use?" Harry said as we climbed the stairs. "He told me not to use Hedwig again."

"Ask Ron if you can borrow -"

"I'm not asking Ron for anything," Harry said flatly.

"Well, borrow one of the school owls, then, anyone can use them," I said.

We went up to the Owlery. Hermione gave Harry a piece of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink, then strolled around the long lines of perches, looking at all the different owls, while Harry sat down against a wall and wrote his letter. I went to sit next to him and looked at what he was writing, now and then giving my own sight on things, especially grammar.

Dear Sirius,

You told me to keep you posted on what's happening at Hogwarts, so here goes – I don't know if you've heard, but the Triwizard Tournament's happening this year and on Saturday night I got picked as a fourth champion. I don't who put my name in the Goblet of Fire, because I didn't. The other Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff.

Hope you're okay, and Buckbeak –

Harry

Here I took over so I could write my own part.

Hey dad,

How's it going? Meet a new girl? Or is Buckbeak keeping them away from you?

Look dad, I'm really worried about Harry. he shouldn't have to deal with this. I promise I'm going to help the best way I can. It wouldn't hurt if you gave some tips too. Like the old days huh.

I really miss you! love you!

Your Star

Ps: I sorta have a boyfriend, he's already mentioned in the letter.

"Finished," I told Hermione, getting to my feet and brushing straw off my robes. At this, Hedwig fluttered down onto Harry's shoulder and held out her leg.

"I can't use you," Harry told her, looking around for the school owls. "I've got to use one of these."

Hedwig gave a very loud hoot and took off. She kept her back to Harry all the time he was tying our letter to the leg of a large barn owl. When the barn owl had flown off, Harry reached out to stroke Hedwig, but she clicked her beak furiously and soared up into the rafters out of reach.

"First Ron, then you," Harry said angrily. "This isn't my fault."

If I had thought that matters would improve once everyone got used to the idea of Harry being champion, the following day showed me how mistaken I was. He could no longer avoid the rest of the school once he was back at lessons - and it was clear that the rest of the school, just like the Gryffindors, thought Harry had entered himself for the tournament. Unlike the Gryffindors, however, they did not seem impressed.

The Hufflepuffs, who were usually on excellent terms with the Gryffindors, had turned remarkably cold toward the whole lot of us. One Herbology lesson was enough to demonstrate this. It was plain that the Hufflepuffs felt that Harry had stolen their champion's glory; a feeling exacerbated, perhaps, by the fact that Hufflepuff House very rarely got any glory, and that Cedric was one of the few who had ever given them any, having beaten Gryffindor once at Quidditch. Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch Fletchley, with whom Harry normally got on very well, did not talk to him even though they were repotting Bouncing Bulbs at the same tray - though they did laugh rather unpleasantly when one of the Bouncing Bulbs wriggled free from Harry's grip and smacked him hard in the face.

Ron wasn't talking to Harry or me either. Hermione sat next to himm, making very forced conversation, including us but though we answered her normally, we avoided making eye contact with each other.

I thought even Professor Sprout seemed distant with Harry - but then, she was Head of Hufflepuff House.

I would have been looking forward to seeing Hagrid under normal circumstances, but Care of Magical Creatures meant seeing the Slytherins too – the first time Harry would come face-to-face with them since becoming champion.

Predictably, Malfoy arrived at Hagrid's cabin with his familiar sneer firmly in place.

"Ah, look, boys, it's the champion," he said to Crabbe and Goyle the moment he got within earshot of Harry. "Got your autograph books? Better get a signature now, because I doubt he's going to be around much longer… Half the Triwizard champions have died… how long d'you reckon you're going to last, Potter? Ten minutes into the first task's my bet."

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed sycophantically, (oh how I wanted to hex those bastards) but Malfoy had to stop there, because Hagrid emerged from the back of his cabin balancing a teetering tower of crates, each containing a very large Blast-Ended Skrewt. To the class's horror, Hagrid proceeded to explain that the reason the skrewts had been killing one another was an excess of pent-up energy, and that the solution would be for each student to fix a leash on a skrewt and take it for a short walk. The only good thing about this plan was that it distracted Malfoy completely.

"Take this thing for a walk?" he repeated in disgust, staring into one of the boxes. "And where exactly are we supposed to fix the leash? Around the sting, the blasting end, or the sucker?"

"Roun' the middle," said Hagrid, demonstrating. "Er - yeh might want ter put on yer dragon-hide gloves, jus' as an extra precaution, like. Harry, Aurora - you come here an' help me with this big one…

Hagrid's real intention, however, was to talk to Harry away from the rest of the class. He waited until everyone else had set off with their skrewts, then turned to Harry and me and said, very seriously, "So - yer competin', Harry. In the tournament. School champion."

"One of the champions," Harry corrected him.

Hagrid's beetle-black eyes looked very anxious under his wild eyebrows.

"No idea who put yeh in fer it, Harry?"

"You believe I didn't do it, then?" said Harry. I sighed with relief. This sould help Harry's spirits.

"Course I do," Hagrid grunted. "Yeh say it wasn' you, an' I believe yeh - an' Dumbledore believes yer, an' all."

"Wish I knew who did do it," said Harry bitterly.

"Don't we all," I said.

The three of us looked out over the lawn; the class was widely scattered now, and all in great difficulty. The skrewts were now over three feet long, and extremely powerful. No longer shell-less and colorless, they had developed a kind of thick, grayish, shiny armor. They looked like a cross between giant scorpions and elongated crabs - but still without recognizable heads or eyes. They had become immensely strong and very hard to control.

"Look like they're havin' fun, don' they?" Hagrid said happily. I assumed he was talking about the skrewts, because my classmates certainly weren't; every now and then, with an alarming bang, one of the skrewts' ends would explode, causing it to shoot forward several yards, and more than one person was being dragged along on their stomach, trying desperately to get back on their feet.

"Ah, I don' know, Harry," Hagrid sighed suddenly, looking back down at him with a worried expression on his face. "School champion… everythin' seems ter happen ter you, doesn' it?"

Harry didn't answer . But I know what he was thinking. That it was true, everything did seem to happen to him. The next few days were some of Harry's worst at Hogwarts. Everybody was leaving him alone, giving him glares and glances. I stood by his side all the time, so he wasn't alone. I think he felt grateful for that. But hey, that's what best friends do right? Stick with eachother.

I could understand the Hufflepuffs' attitude, even if I didn't like it; they had their own champion to support.

I expected nothing less than vicious insults from the Slytherins - Harry was highly unpopular there and always had been, because he had helped Gryffindor beat them so often, both at Quidditch and in the Inter-House Championship. But I had hoped the Ravenclaws might have found it in their hearts to support him as much as Cedric. I was wrong, however. Most Ravenclaws seemed to think that he had been desperate to earn himself a bit more fame by tricking the goblet into accepting his name.

Then there was the fact that Cedric looked the part of a champion so much. Exceptionally handsome, with his straight nose, dark hair, and gray eyes, it was hard to say who was receiving more admiration these days, Cedric or Viktor Krum. I actually saw the same sixth-year girls who had been so keen to get Krum's autograph begging Cedric to sign their school bags one lunchtime. I got mad about that and went over to him. I planted myself on his lap, gave him a kiss.

"Hello handsome, missed me?" Then I looked over to the girls and smirked. "Anything you wanted?"

They huffed and walked away, muttering and giving me glares. I just smirked. Cedric laughed and I turned to him. Suddenly I realized I was still on his lap and moved to sit next to him. His friends making room for me.

"Jealous?" he asked me, grinning.

"No, I just hadn't seen you in ages, so I thought let's have lunch together. I'm sorry if I scared your fanclub away," I said while batting my eyelashes innocently.

"ok, whatever you say, beautiful," Cedric said laughing. He leaned in for another kiss and I happily met him halfway. Some whistling erupted around us and we broke apart, grinning.

We talked and I got to know his friend better. Especially his best friend, Ian. Funny bloke, kept teasing us. I also asked Cedric if he could do something about his house. They were really giving Harry a hard time and I wanted it to stop.

"Why do you defend him, Aurora?" Ian asked me.

"He's my best friend and where I come from, you always believe your best friend. If you can't trust your best friend, you can't trust anyone."

Ian looked thoughtfully at me and so did Cedric.

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't promise anything," Cedric said.

"That's all I'm asking. Well this was lovely. We should do this again sometime. But I really have to get back to Harry. spending too much time with Hermione alone, will drive him crazy. See you later handsome," I said. I kissed Cedric and gave Ian a peck on the cheek.

"Nice meeting you, Ian. See you later."

"Likewise, Aurora, see ya," Ian said.

From that moment, I usually made my way over to the Hufflepuff table so I could have lunch with Cedric and Ian. I know this was hard on Harry, but a girl has to spend some time with her boyfriend right?

Meanwhile there was no reply from Sirius, Hedwig was refusing to come anywhere near Harry, Professor Trelawney was predicting his death with even more certainty than usual, and he did so badly at Summoning Charms in Professor Flitwick's class that he was given extra homework - the only person to get any, apart from Neville.

"It's really not that difficult, Harry," I tried to reassure him as we left Flitwick's class - I had been making objects zoom across the room to my all lesson. "You just weren't concentrating properly -"

"Wonder why that was," said Harry darkly as Cedric Diggory walked past, surrounded by a large group of simpering girls, all of whom looked at Harry as though he were a particularly large Blast-Ended Skrewt. Argh, I hated those girl. Didn't they know he has a girlfriend. You know, me! You think they would leave him alone, but no! and he was enjoying this way to much. Everytime they pass, Ian gives me a look, like to say he's sorry.

"Still - never mind, eh? Double Potions to look forward to this afternoon..."

Double Potions was always a horrible experience, but these days it was nothing short of torture. Being shut in a dungeon for an hour and a half with Snape and the Slytherins, all of whom seemed determined to punish Harry as much as possible for daring to become school champion, was about the most unpleasant thing I could imagine. We had already struggled through one Friday's worth, with Hermione sitting next to Harry intoning "ignore them, ignore them, ignore them" under her breath, and I couldn't see why today should be any better.

When Harry, Hermione and me arrived at Snape's dungeon after lunch, we found the Slytherins waiting outside, each and every one of them wearing a large badge on the front of his or her robes. For one wild moment I thought they were S.P.E.W. badges - then Isaw that they all bore the same message, in luminous red letters that burnt brightly in the dimly lit underground passage:

SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY—THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION!

"Like them, Potter?" said Malfoy loudly as we approached. "And this isn't all they do - look!"

He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one, which glowed green: POTTER STINKS!

The Slytherins howled with laughter. Each of them pressed their badges too, until the message POTTER STINKS was shining brightly all around us.

"Oh very funny," Hermione said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls, who were laughing harder than anyone, "really witty."

Ron was standing against the wall with Dean and Seamus. He wasn't laughing, but he wasn't sticking up for Harry either. Stupid git.

"You want one, Black. To support your boyfriend. What he sees in you, I don't understand!" Parkinson sneered.

"At least I can get a boyfriend without having to pay them. I mean how else would they want to put up with your face," I shot back.

Parkinson looked angry but didn't say anything back. Well, I guess I struck a sensitive chord there.

"Do you want one, Granger?" said Malfoy, holding out a badge to Hermione. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

That was the wrong thing to say in front of Harry and me. I had reached for my wand before I'd thought what I was doing. People all around us scrambled out of the way, backing down the corridor.

"Harry! Aurora" Hermione said warningly.

"Go on, then, Potter," Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his own wand. "Moody's not here to look after you now- do it, if you've got the guts-"

For a split second, they looked into each other's eyes, then, at exactly the same time, both acted.

"Funnunculus!" Harry yelled.

"Densaugeo!" screamed Malfoy.

Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles — Harry's hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy's hit Hermione.

Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up - Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.

"Hermione!"

Ron had hurried forward to see what was wrong with her; Harry and I turned and saw Ron dragging Hermione's hand away from her face. It wasn't a pretty sight. Hermione's front teeth - already larger than average - were now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin - panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry.

"And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice.

Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain."

"Potter attacked me, sir -"

"We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted.

"- and he hit Goyle - look -"

Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi.

"Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly.

"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!"

He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth - she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back. I wanted to slap the bitches.

Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears, she turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight.

It was lucky, perhaps, that both Harry and Ron started shouting at Snape at the same time; lucky their voices echoed so much in the stone corridor, for in the confused din, it was impossible for him to hear exactly what they were calling him. He was lucky I was too angry to say anything or it would have been much worse. He got the gist, however.

"Let's see," he said, in his silkiest voice. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions."

I didn't stick around. I picked up my bag and moved to follow Hermione.

"If you walk away, Black, I will take another fifty points and detention for you to!" Snape said behind me.

"See if I care," and I walked away.

"FIFTY POINTS AND A WEEK DETENTION FOR YOU!" I heard.

I raced along the corridors in hope I could catch up with Hermione. I didn't find her on the way to the infirmary so she must be already there.

I walked through the doors and looked around for Hermione. I saw Goyle lying on a bed with purple salve on his nose. I walked further and saw Hermione and Madame Pomfrey talking. Or at least Hermione tried to talk but couldn't because of her teeth.

"What happened dear?" Madame Pomfrey keeps asking Hermione, and all she could was whimper.

"I can tell you," I said.

Madame Pomfrey turned around and eyed me.

"Miss Black, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"I'm here to help Hermione," I said.

"Very well. Tell me what happened."

"She was hit with the Densaugeo curse," I said.

Madame Pomfrey turned back to Hermione.

"I'm going to shrink your teeth, dear. Just tell me when to stop. It's going to take a while because this is very delicate." She conjured a mirror, gives it to Hermione and begins.

It was really time consuming and boring. Just sitting there, waiting. I heard the bell and Madame Pomfrey stopped for a minute. She wasn't done yet.

"Maybe you should go the Hall, miss Black. We don't want you to miss diner. Miss Granger will be here for a little longer. Off you go," she said.

I sighed, I was quit hungry.

"Ok, I see you later ok, Hermione," I said. She nodded and I stood up and walked towards the Great hall for diner.

I sat down at the table and waited for Harry, seeing he wasn't here. I asked Neville where he was.

"He was called away for some tournament stuff. Snape wasn't too happy about it. Neither with you walking away," he said.

"I could leave Hermione alone and if I has stayed, I would have done something bad to Snape!" I replied.

"Harry looked just the same as you do now. I'm glad he has good control!" Neville said.

"Years of practice I guess," I said smiling.

Then I spotted Harry coming through the door. I waved and he made his way towards Neville and me.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey, how's Hermione?" he asked.

"Fine, Madame Pomfrey was almost done when I left. She should be ok," I said. "What happened to you?" I asked seeing his face.

"This stupid thing for the tournament. This reporter, Rita Skeeter, wanted an interview with me. She turned everything around! Everything I said, she made something different out of it. Said I was a boy of twelve, honestly. But then Dumbledore saved me. Then Ollivander checked our wands, to see if they were in good shape for the tournament. And then they had to take those stupid pictures. Argh, I hate this!" Harry said this all very quick and got angrier and now he lay with his head on his arm on the table.

I patted his head and said, "There, there." In a soothing voice.

He looked up to me and said, "There, there? That's all you've got to say? There, there!"

"Oh you big baby! Come on, finish up so we can get to the common room. If I recall correctly, you have a spell you need to practice," I said smiling.

"Argh," was all I got out of Harry before he banged his head against the table.

I peacefully finished my dinner, talking to Neville, while Harry sulked. I got him to eat something, said goodbye to Neville and walked to the common room in complete silence. Up in the common room, we came across Ron.

"You've had an owl," said Ron brusquely the moment we walked in. He was pointing at the staircase to the boy's dormitory.

"Oh - right," said Harry.

"And we've got to do our detentions tomorrow night, Snape's dungeon," said Ron.

He then walked straight out of the room, not looking at Harry or me. For a moment, I considered going after him - I wasn't sure whether I wanted to hex him or hit him, both seemed quite appealing - but the lure of Sirius's answer was too strong. Harry quickly went to get the letter and came back. We went to said on the floor in front of the fire and read the letter.

Harry –

I can't say everything I would like to in a letter, it's too risky in case the owl is intercepted - we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o'clock in the morning on the 22nd of November?

I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself and while you're around Dumbledore and Moody I don't think anyone will be able to hurt you. However, someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that tournament would have been very risky, especially right under Dumbkdore's nose.

Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of November as quickly as you can.

Sirius

Aurora-

No, I haven't met a new girl. How am I supposed to do that? I'm a wanted man!

You're a sweet girl, Aurora, helping Harry. Make sure he's alright ok! As for tips, I would say basic spells. Shield charms, summoning charm, some hexes. Look them up!

What's this about a boyfriend? So you two finally got together huh? Good for you. James would be very happy about this Harry! you dating my girl. You two have my blessing!

Miss you too Princess, love you!

Dad

We finished the letter and looked up to eachother. Harry's eyes were wide.

"He thinks were dating?" he said weakly.

"I guess. He miss read or something," I said blushing.

Looking in his green eyes, it made me think about Harry being me boyfriend. I wouldn't mind! I leaned to him unconsciously and he did the same.

Loud laughter from the twins made my head clear again. I looked at Harry shocked. I was about to kiss him! I scrambled to my feet, said a quick goodnight without looking him in the eye and went straight for my dormitory. I prepared myself for bed and went in.

What was I thinking? Kissing harry! I have a boyfriend! A very nice boyfriend, so stop thinking about Harry! I closed my eyes and fell into a deep dream. A dream about boys with green eyes and messy black hair.

I never noticed Hermione coming back and looking at me strangely. Neither did I know she had a very interesting conversation with Harry about what had almost happen.

**A/N: chapter 14** **is done, yay! Again so sorry for waiting so long to update!**

**Hope you like it! Let me know! Thanks!**


	15. Misunderstanding, Cedric and Fear

**A/N: I don't own anything**

**Thanks for the lovely reviews!**

**Sorry it took so long again, I has a writer's block.**

**Chapter 15: Misunderstanding, Cedric and Fear**

Hey dad,

Thanks for the tips, Hermione and me are going to look some up. Thank god, we have Hermione to help in the library. I don't mind the room, but I'm not that familiar with like she is. I'm certain we can help Harry survive this!

As for Harry and me, you've got that all wrong! We are not dating! Cedric is my boyfriend. You know, the other Champion. Don't worry, I'm helping Harry not Cedric, he doesn't need it.

Cedric is a very sweet boy and he doesn't care about who you are, but I'm not telling him anything about you! I want you to be safe and I don't trust him that much yet.

Lots of love

Your Star

I watched my letter flying away with a school owl. I sighed. Thinking back at last night, I kind of wished I didn't have a boyfriend and could've kissed Harry. Oh no, stop thinking like that Aurora! I rubbed my temples, as I felt a headache coming up. I was so confused. Why was I thinking like that?

When I got back to the common room, Hermione was waiting for me.

"Where were you?" she asked.

"Sending a letter to snuffles," I said.

She eyed me strangely, like she was figuring something out.

"Have you've seen Harry?" she asked.

"No, didn't see him. Why do you ask?"

She has this stupid smile on her face, like she knows something I don't.

"Why are you smiling like that?" I asked her, she was creeping me out.

"I'm not smiling. Let's go to breakfast," she said with a straight face and she walked to the entrance.

I shook my head and followed her.

In the meantime, life became even worse for Harry within the confines of the castle, for Rita Skeeter had published her piece about the Triwizard Tournament, and it had turned out to be not so much a report on the tournament as a highly colored life story of Harry. Much of the front page had been given over to a picture of Harry; the article (continuing on pages two, six, and seven) had been all about Harry, the names of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions (misspelled) had been squashed into the last line of the article, and Cedric hadn't been mentioned at all.

The article had appeared ten days ago. Rita Skeeter had reported Harry saying an awful lot of things that he couldn't remember ever saying in his life, let alone in that broom cupboard.

_I suppose I get my strength from my parents. I know they'd be very proud of me if they could see me now…_

_Yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it…_

_I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they're watching over me…_

But Rita Skeeter had gone even further than transforming his "er's" into long, sickly sentences: She had interviewed other people about him too.

_Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school. Also in the company of Aurora Black, the daughter of mass murderer Sirius Black. Is it safe for Harry to be in her company? I'm sure the Headmaster will do something about this. We all want The-Boy-Who-Lived to be save._

From the moment the article had appeared, Harry had had to endure people — Slytherins, mainly — quoting it at him as he passed and making sneering comments.

"Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?"

"Since when have you been one of the top students in the school, Potter? Or is this a school you and Longbottom have set up together?"

"Hey - Harry!"

"Yeah, that's right!" Harry shouted as he wheeled around in the corridor. "I've just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I'm just off to do a bit more…"

"No - it was just - you dropped your quill."

It was Cho. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, gives me a hard stare and smiled back at Harry.

"Oh - right - sorry," he muttered, taking the quill back. Humpf, one girl smiles at him and he loses his cool.

"Er… good luck on Tuesday," she said. "I really hope you do well."

Hermione had come in for her fair share of unpleasantness too, but she hadn't yet started yelling at innocent bystanders; in fact, I was full of admiration for the way she was handling the situation.

"Stunningly pretty? Her?" Pansy Parkinson had shrieked the first time she had come face-to-face with Hermione after Rita's article had appeared. "What was she judging against - a chipmunk?"

"Ignore it," Hermione said in a dignified voice, holding her head in the air and stalking past the sniggering Slytherin girls as though she couldn't hear them. "Just ignore it, Harry, Aurora."

But I couldn't ignore it. For me it was worse. The insult and glares came back. Even people who were friendly to me before were avoiding me. Even Cedric was a little distance lately. I asked Ian what is was about, If I did anything wrong. But Ian assured me everything was fine, that it had nothing to do with me. But I couldn't help seeing worry in his eyes.

Harry was in a bad shape to, because he's missing Ron. Ron hadn't spoken to him at all since he had told him about Snape's detentions. I had half hoped they would make things up during the two hours they were forced to pickle rats' brains in Snape's dungeon, but that had been the day Rita's article had appeared, which seemed to have confirmed Ron's belief that Harry was really enjoying all the attention. I wanted to punch the guy in the face, but I didn't for Harry.

Hermione was furious with the three of us; she went from one to the other, trying to force us to talk to each other, but Harry was adamant: He would talk to Ron again only if Ron admitted that Harry hadn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire and apologized for calling him a liar. I wanted an apologize for what he said to me.

"I didn't start this," Harry said stubbornly. "It's his problem."

"You miss him!" Hermione said impatiently. "And I know he misses you -"

"Miss him?" said Harry. "I don't miss him…"

There was much less laughter and a lot more hanging around in the library when Hermione was your best friend for Harry. Harry still hadn't mastered Summoning Charms, he seemed to have developed something of a block about them, and Hermione insisted that learning the theory would help. So we consequently spent a lot of time poring over books during our lunchtimes. They were working on his charm, while I was looking up things that could help during the task.

Viktor Krum was in the library an awful lot too, and I wondered what he was up to. Was he studying, or was he looking for things to help him through the first task?

Hermione often complained about Krum being there - not that he ever bothered us - but because groups of giggling girls often turned up to spy on him from behind bookshelves, and Hermione found the noise distracting.

"He's not even good-looking!" she muttered angrily, glaring at Krum's sharp profile. "They only like him because he's famous! They wouldn't look twice at him if he couldn't do that Wonky Faint thing -"

"Wronski Feint," said Harry, through gritted teeth. Harry hates it when people do that.

It is a strange thing, but when you are dreading something, and would give anything to slow down time, it has a disobliging habit of speeding up. The days until the first task seemed to slip by as though someone had fixed the clocks to work at double speed. Feelings of barely controlled panic was with Harry wherever he went, as ever present as the snide comments about the Daily Prophet article.

On the Saturday before the first task, all students in the third year and above were permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade. Hermione told Harry that it would do him good to get away from the castle for a bit, and Harry didn't need much persuasion.

"What about Ron, though?" he said. "Don't you want to go with him?"

"Oh… well…" Hermione went slightly pink. "I thought we might meet up with him in the Three Broomsticks…"

"No," said Harry flatly.

"Oh Harry, this is so stupid -"

"I'll come, but I'm not meeting Ron, and I'm wearing my Invisibility Cloak."

"Oh all right then…" Hermione snapped, "but I hate talking to you in that cloak, I never know if I'm looking at you or not."

So Harry put on his Invisibility Cloak in the dormitory, went back downstairs, and together he and Hermione set off for Hogsmeade.

I went with Cedric and Ian. Or that was supposed to happen. When I got down, only Ian was there waiting for me.

"Where's Cedric," I asked after I had given Ian a kiss on the cheeck.

"He doesn't feel so good, so I'm here to escort you to Hogsmeade. He didn't want you to waste your day, or mine, so here I am," he said.

"Oh, ok than. Let's go then," I said. Something is definitely wrong.

We talked the whole way about everything. Ian had a way to make me laugh even if I was little down. We went to buy some sweets and I bought some chocolate for Cedric. Ian promised to give it to him. We passed Hermione, who looked uncomfortable. I gave her a big smile and she smiled back, but her eyes were looking between me and Ian. I shrugged and Ian and me walked further.

We walked a little more but I was getting cold so I suggested we went to The Three Broomsticks.

The Three Broomsticks was packed, mainly with Hogwarts students enjoying their free afternoon, but also with a variety of magical people I rarely saw anywhere else. I suppose that as Hogsmeade was the only all-wizard village in Britain, it was a bit of a haven for creatures like hags, who were not as adept as wizards at disguising themselves.

I saw Hermione sitting at one table and asked Ian if it was ok to sit with her. He said ok so we made our way over the her. I spotted Ron, who was sitting with Fred, George and Lee Jordan. Resisting the urge to smack his head, we finally reached the table. I asked with my eyes where Harry was sitting. Her eyes moved to her right and I nodded.

"Why don't you sit here, next to Hermione and I will go get us some drinks," I said.

When I got back I went to sit next to Ian so nobody sat on Harry. I saw that Hermione brought her notebook with her and she was in a heavy discussion with Ian about S.P.E.W.

She lost and looked down. She was deep in thought and she looked back up.

"You know, maybe I should try and get some of the villagers involved in S.P.E.W.," Hermione said thoughtfully, looking around the pub.

"Yeah, right," I said. I took a swig of butterbeer. "Hermione, when are you going to give up on this spew stuff?"

"When house-elves have decent wages and working conditions!" she hissed back. "You know, I'm starting to think it's time for more direct action. I wonder how you get into the school kitchens?"

"No idea, ask Fred and George," I said.

Hermione lapsed into thoughtful silence, while I drank my butterbeer, watching the people in the pub. All of them looked cheerful and relaxed. Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbot were swapping Chocolate Frog cards at a nearby table; both of them sporting Support Cedric Diggory! badges on their cloaks.

Right over by the door he saw Cho and a large group of her Ravenclaw friends. She wasn't wearing a Cedric badge though… That made me wonder.

I started a conversation with Ian and Hermione. Hm, they would make a lovely couple. But smart and good looking. Especially now Hermione her teeth are shorter.

"Look, it's Hagrid!" said Hermione.

The back of Hagrid's enormous shaggy head - he had mercifully abandoned his bunches - emerged over the crowd. I wondered why I hadn't spotted him at once, as Hagrid was so large, but standing up, I saw that Hagrid had been leaning low, talking to Professor Moody. Hagrid had his usual enormous tankard in front of him, but Moody was drinking from his hip flask. Madam Rosmerta, the landlady, didn't seem to think much of this; she was looking askance at Moody as she collected glasses from tables around them. Perhaps she thought it was an insult to her mulled mead, but I knew better. Moody had told us all during our last Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson that he preferred to prepare his own food and drink at all times, as it was so easy for Dark wizards to poison an unattended cup.

As I watched, I saw Hagrid and Moody get up to leave. Moody, however, paused, his magical eye on the corner where Harry was standing. He tapped Hagrid in the small of the back (being unable to reach his shoulder), muttered something to him, and then the pair of them made their way back across the pub toward our table.

"All right, Hermione, Aurora, Ian?" said Hagrid loudly.

"Hello," said Hermione, smiling back.

"Hey Hagrid," I said.

"Hagrid," Ian said.

Moody limped around the table and bent down; Ithought he was reading the S.P.E.W. notebook, until I saw his lips moving. I perfected the art of reading lips so I could easily follow what he was saying, "Nice cloak, Potter."

I couldn't see what Harry said, nor could I hear it, but it was pretty obvious.

"Yeah, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks," Moody said quietly. "And it's come in useful at times, I can tell you."

Hagrid was beaming down at Harry too. I knew Hagrid couldn't see him, but Moody had obviously told Hagrid he was there. Hagrid now bent down on the pretext of reading the S.P.E.W. notebook as well, and said in a whisper so low that only Harry could hear it, but I could read, "Harry, meet me tonight at midnight at me cabin. Wear that cloak."

Straightening up, Hagrid said loudly, "Nice ter see yeh, Hermione, Aurora, Ian" winked, and departed. Moody followed him.

Why would Hagrid want to meet Harry at midnight. It might make him late for the meeting with dad. But I was curious as to what he wanted.

We went back to the castle, said goodbye to Ian and went back to the common room.

At half past eleven that evening, Harry, who had pretended to go up to bed early, pulled the Invisibility Cloak back over himself and crept back downstairs through the common room. I was sitting there to wait for him. Earlier on the evening I told him I was coming with him and there was nothing he could say otherwise. Quite a few people were still in there. The Creevey brothers had managed to get hold of a stack of Support Cedric Diggory! badges and were trying to bewitch them to make them say Support Harry Potter! instead. So far, however, all they had managed to do was get the badges stuck on POTTER STINKS.

Harry crept past them to the portrait hole and waited for a minute or soThen Hermione opened the Fat Lady for him from outside as they had planned. He slipped past her.

I started to follow him, telling Hermione I forgot something in the library. As planned Harry was waiting for me and I slipped under the cloak.

The grounds were very dark. We walked down the lawn toward the lights shining in Hagrid's cabin. The inside of the enormous Beauxbatons carriage was also lit up; I could hear Madame Maxime talking inside it as Harry knocked on Hagrid's front door.

"You there, Harry?" Hagrid whispered, opening the door and looking around.

"Yeah, so is Aurora" said Harry, slipping inside the cabin and pulling the cloak down. "What's up?"

"Got summat ter show yeh, But Aurora wasn suppose tbe here!" said Hagrid. There was an air of enormous excitement about Hagrid.

"Don't worry Hagird, you won't even notice I'm here," I said.

Hagrid was wearing a flower that resembled an oversized artichoke in his buttonhole. It looked as though he had abandoned the use of axle grease, but he had certainly attempted to comb his hair - I could see the comb's broken teeth tangled in it.

"What're you showing me?" Harry said warily. I was wondering if the skrewts had laid eggs, or Hagrid had managed to buy another giant three-headed dog off a stranger in a pub. (The others told me everything about their other years.)

"Come with me, keep quiet, an' keep yerself covered with that cloak," said Hagrid. "We won' take Fang, he won' like it…"

"Listen, Hagrid, we can't stay long… weve got to be back up at the castle by one o'clock -"

But Hagrid wasn't listening; he was opening the cabin door and striding off into the night. Harry and I hurried to follow and found, to our great surprise, that Hagrid was leading us to the Beauxbatons carriage.

"Hagrid, what -?"

"Shhh!" said Hagrid, and he knocked three times on the door bearing the crossed golden wands.

Madame Maxime opened it. She was wearing a silk shawl wrapped around her massive shoulders. She smiled when she saw Hagrid.

"Ah, 'Agrid… it is time?"

"Bong-sewer," said Hagrid, beaming at her, and holding out a hand to help her down the golden steps.

Madame Maxime closed the door behind her, Hagrid offered her his arm, and they set off around the edge of the paddock containing Madame Maxime's giant winged horses, with Harry and me, totally bewildered, running to keep up with them. Had Hagrid wanted to show Harry Madame Maxime? He could see her any old time he wanted… she wasn't exactly hard to miss… But it seemed that Madame Maxime was in for the same treat as Harry and me, because after a while she said playfully, "Wair is it you are taking me, 'Agrid?"

"Yeh'll enjoy this," said Hagrid gruffly, "worth seein', trust me. On'y - don' go tellin' anyone I showed yeh, right? Yeh're not s'posed ter know."

"Of course not," said Madame Maxime, fluttering her long black eyelashes.

And still they walked, me getting more and more irritated as we jogged along in their wake, checking my watch every now and then. Hagrid had some harebrained scheme in hand, which might make me miss dad. If they didn't get there soon, I was going to turn around, go straight back to the castle, and leave Hagrid to enjoy his moonlit stroll with Madame Maxime.

But then - when they had walked so far around the perimeter of the forest that the castle and the lake were out of sight - I heard something. Men were shouting up ahead… then came a deafening, earsplitting roar… Hagrid led Madame Maxime around a clump of trees and came to a halt. Harry and me hurried up alongside them - for a split second, I thought I was seeing bonfires, and men darting around them - and then my mouth fell open.

Dragons. Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting - torrents of fire were shooting into the dark sky from their open, fanged mouths, fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. There was a silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground; a smooth-scaled green one, which was writhing and stamping with all its might; a red one with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air; and a gigantic black one, more lizardhike than the others, which was nearest to them.

At least thirty wizards, seven or eight to each dragon, were attempting to control them, pulling on the chains connected to heavy leather straps around their necks and legs. Mesmerized, I looked up, high above me, and saw the eyes of the black dragon, with vertical pupils like a cat's, bulging with either fear or rage, I couldn't tell which… It was making a horrible noise, a yowling, screeching scream.

"Keep back there, Hagrid!" yelled a wizard near the fence, straining on the chain he was holding. "They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I've seen this Horntail do forty!"

"Is'n' it beautiful?" said Hagrid softly.

"It's no good!" yelled another wizard. "Stunning Spells, on the count of three!"

I saw each of the dragon keepers pull out his wand.

"Stupefy!" they shouted in unison, and the Stunning Spells shot into the darkness like fiery rockets, bursting in showers of stars on the dragons' scaly hides - I watched the dragon nearest to us teeter dangerously on its back legs; its jaws stretched wide in a silent howl; its nostrils were suddenly devoid of flame, though still smoking - then, very slowly, it fell. Several tons of sinewy, scalyblack dragon hit the ground with a thud that I could have sworn made the trees behind us quake.

The dragon keepers lowered their wands and walked forward to their fallen charges, each of which was the size of a small hill. They hurried to tighten the chains and fasten them securely to iron pegs, which they forced deep into the ground with their wands.

"Wan' a closer look?" Hagrid asked Madame Maxime excitedly. The pair of them moved right up to the fence, and Harry and me followed. The wizard who had warned Hagrid not to come any closer turned, and I realized who it was: Charlie Weasley.

"All right, Hagrid?" he panted, coming over to talk. "They should be okay now - we put them out with a Sleeping Draft on the way here, thought it might be better for them to wake up in the dark and the quiet - but, like you saw, they weren't happy, not happy at all -"

"What breeds you got here, Charlie?" said Hagrid, gazing at the closest dragon, the black one, with something chose to reverence. Its eyes were still just open. I could see a strip of gleaming yellow beneath its wrinkled black eyelid.

"This is a Hungarian Horntail," said Charlie. "There's a Common Welsh Green over there, the smaller one — a Swedish Short-Snout, that blue-gray — and a Chinese Fireball, that's the red."

Charlie looked around; Madame Maxime was strolling away around the edge of the enclosure, gazing at the stunned dragons.

"I didn't know you were bringing her, Hagrid," Charlie said, frowning. "The champions aren't supposed to know what's coming - she's bound to tell her student, isn't she?"

"Jus' thought she'd like ter see 'em," shrugged Hagrid, still gazing, enraptured, at the dragons.

"Really romantic date, Hagrid," said Charlie, shaking his head.

"Four…" said Hagrid, "so it's one fer each o' the champions, is it? What've they gotta do - fight 'em?"

"Just get past them, I think," said Charlie. "We'll be on hand if it gets nasty, Extinguishing Spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers, I don't know why… but I tell you this, I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing. Its back end's as dangerous as its front, look."

Charlie pointed toward the Horntail's tail, and Isaw long, bronze-colored spikes protruding along it every few inches. I so hope Harry doesn't get that one!

Five of Charlie's fellow keepers staggered up to the Horntail at that moment, carrying a clutch of huge granite-gray eggs between them in a blanket. They placed them carefully at the Horntail's side. Hagrid let out a moan of longing.

"I've got them counted, Hagrid," said Charlie sternly. Then he said, "How's Harry?"

"Fine," said Hagrid. He was still gazing at the eggs.

"Just hope he's still fine after he's faced this lot," said Charlie grimly, looking out over the dragons' enclosure. "I didn't dare tell Mum what he's got to do for the first task; she's already having kittens about him…" Charlie imitated his mother's anxious voice. "How could they let him enter that tournament, he's much too young! I thought they were all safe, I thought there was going to be an age limit! She was in floods after that Daily Prophet article about him. 'He still cries about his parents! Oh bless him, I never knew!'"

Harry and me had had enough. Trusting to the fact that Hagrid wouldn't miss us, with the attractions of four dragons and Madame Maxime to occupy him, we turned silently and began to walk away, back to the castle.

I didn't know whether I was glad I'd seen what was coming or not. Perhaps this way was better. The first shock was over now. Maybe if Harry'd seen the dragons for the first time on Tuesday, he would have passed out cold in front of the whole school… but maybe he would anyway… He was going to be armed with his wand - which, just now, felt like nothing more than a narrow strip of wood — against a fifty-foot-high, scaly, spike-ridden, fire-breathing dragon. And he had to get past it. With everyone watching. How? They are all mental! Crazy, out of their minds!

We sped up, skirting the edge of the forest; we had just under fifteen minutes to get back to the fireside and talk to Sirius, and I couldn't remember, ever, wanting to talk to someone more than I did right now — when, without warning, we ran into something very solid.

Harry fell backward, pulling me with him, his glasses askew, clutching the cloak around us. A voice nearby said, "Ouch! Who's there?"

Harry hastily checked that the cloak was covering us and lay very still, staring up at the dark outline of the wizard we had hit. I recognized the goatee… it was Karkaroff.

"Who's there?" said Karkaroff again, very suspiciously, looking around in the darkness. We remained still and silent. After a minute or so, Karkaroff seemed to decide that he had hit some sort of animal; he was looking around at waist height, as though expecting to see a dog. Then he crept back under the cover of the trees and started to edge forward toward the place where the dragons were.

Very slowly and very carefully, Harry got to his feet, pulled me up and set off again as fast as we could without making too much noise, hurrying through the darkness back toward Hogwarts.

I had no doubt whatsoever what Karkaroff was up to. He had sneaked off his ship to try and find out what the first task was going to be. He might even have spotted Hagrid and Madame Maxime heading off around the forest together – they were hardly difficult to spot at a distance… and now all Karkaroff had to do was follow the sound of voices, and he, like Madame Maxime, would know what was in store for the champions. By the looks of it, the only champion who would be facing the unknown on Tuesday was Cedric. I had to warn him!

We reached the castle, slipped in through the front doors, and began to climb the marble stairs; I was very out of breath, but I didn't dare slow down… we had less than five minutes to get up to the fire.

"Balderdash!" Harry gasped at the Fat Lady, who was snoozing in her frame in front of the portrait hole.

"If you say so," she muttered sleepily, without opening her eyes, and the picture swung forward to admit us. Harry and I climbed inside. The common room was deserted, and, judging by the fact that it smelled quite normal, Hermione had not needed to set off any Dungbombs to ensure that we and dad got privacy. Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and threw himself into an armchair in front of the fire. I followed his movements. The room was in semidarkness; the flames were the only source of light. Nearby, on a table, the Support Cedric Diggory! badges the Creeveys had been trying to improve were glinting in the firelight. They now read POTTER REALLY STINKS.

Harry looked back into the flames, and jumped. Sirius's head was sitting in the fire. If Harry hadn't seen Mr. Diggory do exactly this back in the Weasleys' kitchen, it would have scared him out of his wits. Not being familiar with all this and such.

Instead, his face breaking into the first smile he had worn for days, he scrambled out of his chair, crouched down by the hearth, and said, "Sirius - how're you doing?"

I followed him, "Hi dad, I missed you!"

Dad looked different from my memory of him. When we had said goodbye, dad's face had been gaunt and sunken, surrounded by a quantity of long, black, matted hair - but the hair was short and clean now, dad's face was fuller, and he looked younger, much more like the only photograph I had of him, which had been taken at his wedding.

"Never mind me, how are you?" said dad seriously.

"I'm -" For a second, Harry was silent and then he was talking more than he'd talked in days - about how no one believed he hadn't entered the tournament of his own free will, how Rita Skeeter had lied about him in the Daily Prophet, how he couldn't walk down a corridor without being sneered at - and about Ron, Ron not believing him, Ron's jealousy…

"… and now Hagrid's just shown me what's coming in the first task, and it's dragons, Sirius, and I'm a goner," he finished desperately.

Dad looked at him, eyes full of concern, eyes that had not yet lost the look that Azkaban had given them - that deadened, haunted look. He had let Harry talk himself into silence without interruption, but now he said, "Dragons we can deal with, Harry, but we'll get to that in a minute - I haven't got long here… I've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about."

"What?" I said, feeling my spirits slip a further few notches… Surely there could be nothing worse than dragons coming?

"Karkaroff," said dad. " he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"

"Yes - he - what?"

"He was caught, he was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I'd bet everything that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year – to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place."

"Karkaroff got released?" Harry said slowly "Why did they release him?"

"He did a deal with the Ministry of Magic," said dad bitterly. "He said he'd seen the error of his ways, and then he named names… he put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place… He's not very popular in there, I can tell you. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his. So watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well."

"Okay," said Harry slowly. "But… are you saying Karkaroff put my name in the goblet? Because if he did, he's a really good actor. He seemed furious about it. He wanted to stop me from competing."

"We know he's a good actor," said dad, "because he convinced the Ministry of Magic to set him free, didn't he? Now, I've been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry…"

"- you and the rest of the world," said Harry bitterly.

"- and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm," dad said hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, "but I don't think so, somehow. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one's going to look into it too closely; Mad-Eye's heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn't mean he can't still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had."

"So… what are you saying?" said Harry slowly. "Karkaroff's trying to kill me? But - why?"

Dad hesitated. "I've been hearing some very strange things," he said slowly. "The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, didn't they? Someone set off the Dark Mark… and then - did you hear about that Ministry of Magic witch who's gone missing?"

"Bertha Jorkins?" I said.

"Exactly… she disappeared in Albania, and that's definitely where Voldemort was rumored to be last… and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she?"

"Yeah, but… it's not very likely she'd have walked straight into Voldemort, is it?" I asked.

"Listen, I knew Bertha Jorkins," said dad grimly. "She was at Hogwarts when I was, a few years above your dad and me. And she was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains, none at all. It's not a good combination, Aurora. I'd say she'd be very easy to lure into a trap."

"So… so Voldemort could have found out about the tournament?" said Harry. "Is that what you mean? You think Karkaroff might be here on his orders?"

"I don't know," said dadslowly, "I just don't know… Karkaroff doesn't strike me as the type who'd go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can't help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident."

"Looks like a really good plan from where I'm standing," said Harry grinning bleaky. "They'll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff."

"Right - these dragons," said dad, speaking very quickly now. "There's a way, Harry. Don't be tempted to try a Stunning Spell - dragons are strong and too powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single Stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon -"

"Yeah, I know, I just saw," said Harry.

"But you can do it alone," said dad. "There is away, and a simple spell's all you need. Just -"

But I held up a hand to silence him, my heart suddenly pounding as though it would burst. I could hear footsteps coming down the spiral staircase behind me.

"Go!" I hissed at dad. "Go! There's someone coming!"

Harry scrambled to his feet, hiding the fire - if someone saw dad's face within the walls of Hogwarts, they would raise an almighty uproar - the Ministry would get dragged in - I, would be questioned about dad's whereabouts and so would Harry - I heard a tiny pop! in the fire behind me and knew dad had gone. I watched the bottom of the spiral staircase. Who had decided to go for a stroll at one o'clock in the morning, and stopped dad from telling us how to get past a dragon? It was Ron. Dressed in his maroon paisley pajamas, Ron stopped dead facing Harry and me across the room, and looked around.

"Who were you two talking to?" he said.

"What's that got to do with you?" Harry snarled. "What are you doing down here at this time of night?"

"I just wondered where you -" Ron broke off, shrugging. "Nothing. I'm going back to bed."

"Just thought you'd come nosing around, did you?" Harry shouted.

"Sorry about that," said Ron, his face reddening with anger. "Should've realized you didn't want to be disturbed. I'll let you get on with practicing for your next interview in peace."

Harry seized one of the POTTER REALLY STINKS badges off the table and chucked it, as hard as he could, across the room. It hit Ron on the forehead and bounced off.

"There you go," Harry said. "Something for you to wear on Tuesday. You might even have a scar now, if you're lucky… That's what you want, isn't it?"

Harry strode across the room toward the stairs; I half expected Ron to stop him, but Ron just stood there in his too-small pajamas.

I walked past him, bumping my shoulder with his as hard I could and went to bed. I lay awake for a long time. Thinking about those dragons. How was Harry going to win this? I feared for his safety!

**A/N: Chapter 15 done, finally. Sorry it took so long.**

**Please let me know what you think!**


	16. The first Task

**A/N: I don't own anything**

**Chapter 16: The First Task **

I got up on Sunday morning, still trying to process everything I heard last night. I wanted to talk to Hermione but she was already gone. I hurried downstairs and ran into Harry. Together we went to look for Hermione, locating her at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, where she was eating breakfast with Ginny. Harry waited until Hermione and me had swallowed our last spoonful of porridge, then dragged her out onto the grounds, with me following them. There, he told her all about the dragons, and about everything Sirius had said, while we took another long walk around the lake.

Alarmed as she was by Sirius's warnings about Karkaroff, Hermione still thought that the dragons were the more pressing problem.

"Let's just try and keep you alive until Tuesday evening," she said desperately, "and then we can worry about Karkaroff."

We walked three times around the lake, trying all the way to think of a simple spell that would subdue a dragon.

Nothing whatsoever occurred to us, so we retired to the library instead. Here, we pulled down every book we could find on dragons, and we set to work searching through the large pile.

"Talon-clipping by charms… treating scale-rot… This is no good, this is for nutters like Hagrid who want to keep them healthy…"

"Dragons are extremely difficult to slay, owing to the ancient magic that imbues their thick hides, which none but the most powerful spells can penetrate… ' But Sirius said a simple one would do it…"

"Let's try some simple spellbooks, then," said Harry, throwing aside Men Who Love Dragons Too Much.

He returned to the table with a pile of spellbooks, set them down, and began to flick through each in turn, Hermione whispering nonstop. I just looked through them quietly.

"Well, there are Switching Spells… but what's the point of Switching it? Unless you swapped its fangs for wine-gums or something that would make it less dangerous… The trouble is, like that book said, not much is going to get through a dragon's hide… I'd say Transfigure it, but something that big, you really haven't got a hope, I doubt even Professor McGonagall… unless you're supposed to put the spell on yourself? Maybe to give yourself extra powers? But they're not simple spells, I mean, we haven't done any of those in class, I only know about them because I've been doing O.W.L. practice papers…"

"Hermione," Harry said, through gritted teeth, "will you shut up for a bit, please? I'm trying to concentrate."

"Oh no, he's back again, why can't he read on his stupid ship?" said Hermione irritably as Viktor Krum slouched in, cast a surly look over at the three of us, and settled himself in a distant corner with a pile of books.

"Come on, we'll go back to the common room… his fan club'll be here in a moment, twittering away… "

And sure enough, as we left the library, a gang of girls tiptoed past us, one of them wearing a Bulgaria scarf tied around her waist. Some girls are really pathetic.

I barely slept that night. I couldn't help thinking about what was going to happen. If Harry couldn't hold his own against a dragon… No don't think like that! He need me to be strong, supportive, not panicking! How can they let children fight dragons! Are they all crazy?

It was Monday and I could see that Harry had a rough night. He had trouble eating. He finished up and while we got up, I saw Cedric leaving the Hufflepuff table. Things were getting better between us. I suspect Ian talking to him or it were the chocolates I gave him. Then I realized something, Cedric still didn't know about the dragons… the only champion who didn't, if I was right in thinking that Maxime and Karkaroff would have told Fleur and Krum…

I grabbed Harry and said, "Harry, Cedric doesn't know about the dragons! I can't say anything but you can. Please you have to tell him!"

Harry looked at me and nodded. "Ok, I'll tell him now. I'll see you in the greenhouses. Go on, I'll catch you up."

"Harry, you'll be late, the bell's about to ring -" Hermione said.

"I'll catch you up, okay?"

I saw Harry running after Cedric and I really hoped Cedric would believe him. Hermione and me hurried to the greenhouses, so we wouldn't be late. We made it time and looked behind us, to see if we could see Harry running to us, but he wasn't.

Professor Sprout opened the door and we filled in.

"Where's Harry? he should be here by now!" Hermione hissed to me.

"I don't know, it shouldn't take this long. You think something went wrong?" I hissed back.

"Miss Black, where is mister potter?" professor Sprout asked me.

I looked up, kept a neutral face, "Professor Moody wanted to talk to him. He will be here any minute, professor."

"Very well, we will begin with the lesson …"

Turned her out and looked outside. Where is he? Then I saw a black spot running towards us. I would recognize that hair from everywhere. Harry sped into the greenhouse, uttered a hurried apology to Professor Spout as he passed her.

"Aurora - I need you to help me."

"What d'you think I've been trying to do, Harry?" I whispered back, my eyes round with anxiety over the top of the quivering Flutterby Bush I was pruning.

"Aurora, I need to learn how to do a Summoning Charm properly by tomorrow afternoon."

And so we practiced. We didn't have lunch, but headed for a free classroom, where Harry tried with all his might to make various objects fly across the room toward him. He was still having problems. The books and quills kept losing heart halfway across the room and dropping hike stones to the floor.

"Concentrate, Harry, concentrate…"

"What d'you think I'm trying to do?" said Harry angrily. "A great big dragon keeps popping up in my head for some reason… Okay, try again…"

He wanted to skip Divination to keep practicing, but Hermione refused pointblank to skive off Arithmancy, and there was no point in staying with just the two of us. I was getting tired and hungry. We therefore had to endure over an hour of Professor Trelawney, who spent half the lesson telling everyone that the position of Mars with relation to Saturn at that moment meant that people born in July were in great danger of sudden, violent deaths.

"Well, that's good," said Harry loudly, his temper getting the better of him, "just as long as it's not drawn-out. I don't want to suffer."

Ron looked for a moment as though he was going to laugh; he certainly caught Harry's and my eye for the first time in days, but I was still feeling too resentful toward Ron to care. Harry spent the rest of the lesson trying to attract small objects toward him under the table with his wand, with me offering suggestions and tips. He managed to make a fly zoom straight into his hand, though he wasn't entirely sure that was his prowess at Summoning Charms - perhaps the fly was just stupid. Personally, I think the fly was just stupid, but I didn't tell Harry that.

I forced harry some dinner after Divination, then returned to the empty classroom with Hermione, using the Invisibility Cloak to avoid the teachers. We kept practicing until past midnight. We would have stayed longer, but Peeves turned up and, pretending to think that Harry wanted things thrown at him, started chucking chairs across the room. Harry, Hermione and me left in a hurry before the noise attracted Filch, and went back to the Gryffindor common room, which was now mercifully empty.

At two o'clock in the morning, Harry stood near the fireplace, surrounded by heaps of objects: books, quills, several upturned chairs, an old set of Gobstones, and Neville's toad, Trevor. Only in the last hour had Harry really got the hang of the Summoning Charm.

"That's better, Harry, that's loads better," I said, feeling exhausted but very pleased. Hermione was already passed out on the couch.

"Well, now we know what to do next time I can't manage a spell," Harry said, throwing a rune dictionary back to me, so he could try again, "threaten me with a dragon. Right…" He raised his wand once more. "Accio Dictionary!" The heavy book soared out of my hand, flew across the room, and Harry caught it.

"Harry, I really think you've got it!" I said delightedly.

"Just as long as it works tomorrow," Harry said. "The Firebolt's going to be much farther away than the stuff in here, it's going to be in the castle, and I'm going to be out there on the grounds…"

"That doesn't matter," I said firmly. "Just as long as you're concentrating really, really hard on it, it'll come. You've shown great power in situation like this before. I'm sure you can do it! Let's go to bed, you're going to need your strength."

I woke up Hermione and together we went to bed.

The atmosphere in the school the next morning was one of great tension and excitement. Lessons were to stop at midday, giving all the students time to get down to the dragons' enclosure - though of course, they didn't yet know what they would find there.

Harry looked extremely nervous and others weren't really helping, whether they were wishing him good luck or hissing "We'll have a box of tissues ready, Potter" as he passed.

Time was behaving in a more peculiar fashion than ever, rushing past in great dollops, so that one moment we seemed to be sitting down in our first lesson, History of Magic, and the next, walking into lunch… and then (where had the morning gone? the last of the dragon-free hours?), Professor McGonagall was hurrying over to Harry in the Great Hall. Lots of people were watching.

"Potter, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now… You have to get ready for your first task."

"Okay," said Harry, standing up, his fork falling onto his plate with a clatter.

"Good luck, Harry," Hermione whispered. "You'll be fine!"

"Yeah," said Harry in a voice that was most unlike his own.

I stood up and threw my arms around him. I pulled him as close as I could. I didn't say anything because I didn't trust my voice. I let him go, gave him a shaky smile. He gave one back and he left the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall. I sighed and sat back down. I so worried about him now. I looked back and saw Professor Sprout walking with Cedric. I got up and ran toward them.

"Cedric," I yelled.

He turned around, looking all nervous. He gave me a weak smile and opened his arms a little. I immediately walked right into them. He pulled me real close.

"Are you alright?" I asked whispering.

"No, but I will be when this is all over," he whispered back.

I looked into his eyes and I saw the doubt shining in them.

"I know you will be great, Cedric! I will be rooting for you! Do you have a plan?"

"Yes, I have. I have to be going now, Aurora or I might just stay here and forfeit this whole tournament. I don't think my house will be happy about that."

He leaned down and I met him halfway. Our kiss was different than usual. It was desperate. A cough made us stop and he let go of me.

"Good luck!" I said as I watch him walk away with Professor Sprout. How am I going to survive this? My boyfriend and my best friend walking towards dragons and hoping they survive.

I felt a presence behind me and then a hand on my shoulder.

"He's going to be fine, he's tough!" Ian said.

"I know, but I can't help worrying about it. You do realize it's both Cedric and Harry. I'll be a nervous wreck by the time I get there and possibly die from fear!"

"Aren't you a little over dramatic now?"

I turned around and looked him in the eye, "Talk to me afterwards and tell me if I'm overreacting!"

"Ladies and Gentlemen, it's time. Please make you way over to the grounds and I'm sure you will find the place you need to be," Professor Dumbledore said.

"You coming?" Ian asked.

"Nah, I'm going with Hermione. Somebody has to keep that girl sane," I said.

"But you just said…" Ian looked at me bewildered. "You know what, never mind." He walked away and joined the rest of his friends.

I waited for Hermione and saw her walking to me with Neville at her side.

"You ready?" I asked.

"Yeah," Neville said while Hermione just nodded. Together we set of the grounds. We followed the others and saw a big cage with stands around them. tents were set around it. I saw movement in one tent and guessed that the champions were there.

"Hey, Aurora, Hermione!" someone yelled. We turned around and saw Charlie waving at us. We waved back and went to one of the entrances. We picked a spot quit high but we could still see everything really good when we looked down.

We saw the head of schools walking to a table set aside and Mister Crouch. A fifth seat was kept open, probably for Mister Bagman.

Suddenly a whistle was blown and Bagman came running.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the first task! The champions have to get past a dragon and retrieve a golden egg. They can only bring their wands. And the first dragon is a Swedish Short-Snout for Mister Diggory!" Bagman shouted out.

"Oh no, Cedric is first," I whispered. Hermione took hold of my hand and gave me a reassuring squeeze.

Everybody roared when Cedric entered the enclosure. I swear he is looking very green. Who wouldn't be when they got face-to-face with a dragon.

The dragon breathed fire at him and he just got away by jumping behind a rock. He trained his wand on a rock and the rock changed into a Labrador. What is he doing? Listening to Bagmans commentary didn't help much either.

"Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow"… "He's taking risks, this one!"… "Clever move - pity it didn't work!"

His plan did work for a bit, the dragon followed the Labrador which meant that Cedric got really close to the eggs. But then the dragon decided he was going to go after Cedric. Another burst of flames, but Cedric didn't see this one coming!

"No!" I screamed with everyone else when part of his face was on fire. He quickly put it out but I could see that there was a lot of damage.

Cedric made a run for the eggs before the dragon could get any closer. A dodged another fireball and then…

A deafening roar came from the audience. Cedric had taken the egg! I screamed and jumped and hugged Hermione, while saying: "He's got it! He's alive! He's got it! He's alive! …"

"Very good indeed!" Bagman was shouting. "And now the marks from the judges!"

But he didn't shout out the marks; I supposed the judges were holding them up and showing them to the crowd. I didn't look, I was too busy looking if Cedric was alright. I saw Madame Pompfrey take him by the arm and took him to the tent.

"One down, three to go!" Bagman yelled as the whistle blew again. "Miss Delacour, if you please!"

You could see that Fleur was trembling, but her head was held high. She stared at the dragon and began to wave her wand. She muttering something but I couldn't hear. The dragon just stood there and looked at here, but you could see sudden changes. The dragon was getting sleepy. Suddenly it let out a huge snort, with flames! Her skirt got fire and she had to stop the spell to put the fire out. The dragon was coming out of his slumber. But Fleur got right to it again and soon the dragon was sleepy again. She kept going and she started forward. Slowly making her way the nest. She got closer and closer …

She has it! She got the egg. The crowd erupted into applause again. I didn't look at the score, it didn't interest me. I was too busy worrying if it was Harry next. Then, for the third time, the whistle.

"And here comes Mr. Krum!" cried Bagman, and Krum slouched out of the tent. "He's facing the Chinese Fireball!"

Krum took aim and fired a spell right to the eyes of the dragon. It hit spot on and the dragon emitted a horrible roaring shriek. Can a dragon shriek? What the hell…

"Very daring!" Bagman was yelling, "That's some nerve he's showing - and - yes, he's got the egg!"

The dragon stamped on half the eggs, the reals ones. I don't think that was supposed to happen, but it did the job. Krum got the egg.

Applause shattered the wintery air like breaking glass; Krum had finished – it would be Harry's turn any moment. I was feeling very anxious right now. I took hold of Hermione's hand and I got see that her other hand was clamped around Neville's.

The whistle blow…

Harry looked so small in that arena. I can't imagine what he's feeling right now. Hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at him from stands. And there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon Harry, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, heaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground. The crowd was making a great deal of noise. I was holding my breath. This better worked or Harry is toast.

Harry raised his wand.

"Accio Firebolt!" he shouted.

I waited, every fiber of me hoping, praying… If it hadn't worked… if it wasn't coming…

And then I saw it, speeding through the air behind Harry; his Firebolt hurtling toward him around the edge of the woods, soaring into the enclosure, and stopping dead in midair beside Harry, waiting for him to mount. The crowd was making even more noise… Bagman was shouting, "Looks like mister Potter is going to outfly his dragon!" Hermione and me yelling. I was relieved, plan one worked, now the rest. I hope everything will go just as good!

Harry swung his leg over the broom and kicked off from the ground. I saw Harry looking down at the clutch of eggs, residing safely between the dragon's front legs.

Harry dived. The Horntail's head following him; it was like Harry knew what it was going to do and pulled out of the dive just in time; a jet of fire had been released exactly where he would have been had he not swerved away…

"Great Scott, he can fly!" yelled Bagman as the crowd shrieked and gasped. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?" Harry was really flying well, I never saw him fly like this before.

Harry soared higher in a circle; the Horntail was still following his progress; its head revolving on its long neck - if he kept this up, it would be nicely dizzy.

Harry plummeted just as the Horntail opened its mouth, but this time he was less lucky - he missed the flames, but the tail came whipping up to meet him instead, and as he swerved to the left, one of the long spikes grazed his shoulder, ripping his robes —

"No!" I yelled. Hermione gasped.

Now Harry zoomed around the back of the Horntail.

Harry began to fly, first this way, then the other, not near enough to make her breathe fire to stave him off, but still posing a sufficient threat to ensure she kept her eyes on him. Her head swayed this way and that, watching him out of those vertical pupils, her fangs bared…

Harry flew higher. The Horntail's head rose with him, her neck now stretched to its fullest extent, still swaying, hike a snake before its charmer… Harry rose a few more feet, and she let out a roar of exasperation. He was like a fly to her, a fly she was longing to swat; her tail thrashed again, but he was too high to reach now… She shot fire into the air, which he dodged… Her jaws opened wide…

I gasped. "What?" Hermione asked me, looking at me with tears in her eyes.

"I know what he's trying to do! He wants her to fly!" I said.

"What?" looks like Hermione isn't her smart self today.

"Come on," I whispered, "come on, come and get up… up you get now…"

And then the dragon reared, spreading her great, black, leathery wings at last, as wide as those of a small airplane - and Harry dived. Before the dragon knew what he had done, or where he had disappeared to, he was speeding toward the ground as fast as he could go, toward the eggs now unprotected by her clawed front legs - he had taken his hands off his Firebolt - he had seized the golden egg –

And with a huge spurt of speed, he was off, he was soaring out over the stands, the heavy egg safely under his uninjured arm, and everybody was screaming and cheering. Hermione, Neville and me were one big hug.

"Look at that!" Bagman was yelling. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!"

"He did it! I can't believe he actually did it!" I yelled. I was so happy. Harry finished the first task, against all odds. He didn't die!

"Come on," Hermione yelled, "Let's go see him!"

Hermione and me raced down the stars, but when we got to the bottom, a surprise was waiting for us. Ronald Weasley.

We stood there, looking at each other. Trying to decide who's going to speak first.

"I'm sorry," Ron said quickly, already resembling a tomato. I raised my eyebrows.

"Sorry for what?" I asked. Hermione was looking between us, looking nervous.

"I'm sorry what I said about your father," he said.

"And?"

"And for not believing Harry."

"And?"

"And what?"

"For being an insufferable prat!" I said.

Ron turned even redder if that was possible. "And for being an insufferable prat."

"And I'm sorry for hitting you and threatening you," I said.

"So, eum, are we friends again? I kind of missed you guys. Nothing is the same without you. I mean Seamus and Dean are great, but they are not you, you know," Ron was looking at the ground, he looked so sweet and couldn't help smiling. I walked up to him and pulled him in a hug.

"Yes, we are friends again," I said.

I let go, smiled at him. "Come on, we're going to see Harry. Do you want to come?"

"Do you think Harry would want that?" Ron asked.

"Yes, he will never admit it, but he missed you," I said.

"Allright, let's go!" Ron said and we set of once again to see Harry.

I reached the tent first and I darted right in and saw Harry just before me. I didn't hesitate and threw my arms around him.

"You did! You beaten a dragon, you've completed the first task and you're not dead! You were amazing!"

"All thanks to you, Aurora!" Harry said. His eyes were looking straight into mine and I couldn't help but smile widely. I wanted to kiss him right there and then but I remembered Cedric and I could do that to him or Harry. So I gave him a kiss on the cheek and released him from my hold.

"Harry, you were brilliant!" Hermione said squeakily.

Harry didn't react, he was looking at Ron, who was very white and staring at Harry as though he were a ghost.

"Harry," he said, very seriously, "whoever put your name in that goblet - I – I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

"Caught on, have you?" said Harry coldly. "Took you long enough."

Hermione stood nervously between them, looking from one to the other. I stood beside Harry, clasping my hand in his. Ron opened his mouth uncertainly.

"It's okay," Harry said, before Ron could get the words out. "Forget it."

"No," said Ron, "I shouldn't've -"

"Forget it, "Harry said.

Ron grinned nervously at him, and Harry grinned back

Hermione burst into tears. What the hell? Is the stress getting to her?

"There's nothing to cry about!" Harry told her, bewildered.

"You two are so stupid!" she shouted, stamping her foot on the ground, tears splashing down her front. Then, before either of the boys could stop her, she had given both of them a hug and dashed away, now positively howling.

"Barking mad," said Ron, shaking his head. "Harry, c'mon, they'll be putting up your scores…"

Ron walked to the opening in the tent. Harry went to get his egg and Firebolt (yes we released hands when Hermione hugged him). He looked at me.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

"You go with Ron, male bonding. I want to see Cedric. I'll see you in the common room," I said smiling.

For a moment I thought that a shadow crossed Harry's eyes, but it was probably my imagination. "Oh, ok," he said, "See you later." And walked out of the tent.

I walked to a separated part of the tent and looked around the screen. I saw Cedric on a bed with one side of his face covered in a thick orange paste.

"Hey," I said smiling.

Cedric looked up and smiled.

"Hey, beautiful. Come on in," Cedric said.

I walked to the bed and went to sit on side, facing Cedric. Cedric sat up. I gave him a kiss and then I hugged him.

"I thought I lost you there for a moment. When your face was on fire, I nearly lost it," I said.

"I'm still here, noting to worry about."

I pulled away and looked at him.

"You were amazing, really. I knew you could do it! But don't you ever let me go through something like that again!"

Cedric laughed. "I can't make any promising's but I can try."

I looked at his face. "Is it bad?" I asked, while pointing at his face.

"No, Madame Promfrey said it should be just the way it was tomorrow. So don't worry, I'm not scarred for live," he said winking.

"Good, because I couldn't date someone who's ugly. I'm a Black, a pureblood. I have standards. My boyfriend needs to be handsome, so I can show him of," I said really serious [no pun intented].

"Really, you've would have dumped me because I would be scarred? I thought chicks loved that?"

"I'm just messing with you! And you're right! I definitely like scars, makes you more man," I said.

"Oo you little sphinx. Come here you." and Cedric pulls me close and kissed me hard on the lips. Not sure if I like kisses like that. It didn't have any emotion in them.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, but Bagman wants a word with you, Mr. Diggory, back in the chapmpion's tent," Madame Pomfery.

Cedric groaned and I helped getting him up.

"I'll wait for you outside the tent ok?" I asked.

"Ok," he said.

We walked to the tent and I saw Ron standing there. That must mean that Harry is already inside.

"See you in a minute," Cedric said and he gives me a kiss. Fleur and Krum showed up and the three of them walked in together.

"So, you and Harry are good?" I asked.

"Yes, thank you Aurora," Ron said.

"It was nothing, but let's never fight again shall we?"

"Never," and we shook hands.

The four champions came out of the tent and Harry and Cedric came towards us while Fleur and Krum walked away.

The four of us started to walk back around the edge of the forest, talking hard; Harry and Cedric wanted to hear what the other champions had done in more detail. Then, as we rounded the clump of trees behind which Harry and me had first heard the dragons roar, a witch leapt out from behind them.

It was Rita Skeeter. She was wearing acid-green robes today; the Quick-Quotes Quill in her hand blended perfectly against them.

"Congratulations, Harry!" she said, beaming at him. "I wonder if you could give me a quick word? How you felt facing that dragon? How you feel now, about the fairness of the scoring?"

"Yeah, you can have a word," said Harry savagely. "Good-bye."

And Harry set off back to the castle with Ron, Cedric and me.

The first task is done, I hope I can survive the others to!

**A/N: Finally, this chapter is done! It took me some time, ok, a lot of time, but I finished it! Yay me.**

**Let me know what you think!**


	17. The House-Elf Liberation Front

**A/N: here's chapter 17. Thanks for all the great reviews. I'm going to try to update more but university is quit time demanding.**

**Chapter 17: The House-Elf Liberation Front**

Harry, Ron, Hermione and me went up to the Owlery that evening to find Pigwidgeon, so that Harry could send Sirius a letter telling him that he had managed to get past his dragon unscathed. On the way, Harry filled Ron in on everything Sirius had told him about Karkaroff. Though shocked at first to hear that Karkaroff had been a Death Eater, by the time we entered the Owlery Ron was saying that they ought to have suspected it all along.

"Fits, doesn't it?" he said. "Remember what Malfoy said on the train, about his dad being friends with Karkaroff? Now we know where they knew each other. They were probably running around in masks together at the World Cup… I'll tell you one thing, though, Harry, if it was Karkaroff who put your name in the goblet, he's going to be feeling really stupid now, isn't he? Didn't work, did it? You only got a scratch! Come here - I'll do it -"

Pigwidgeon was so overexcited at the idea of a delivery he was flying around and around Harry's head, hooting incessantly. Ron snatched Pigwidgeon out of the air and held him still while Harry attached the letter to his leg.

"There's no way any of the other tasks are going to be that dangerous, how could they be?" Ron went on as he carried Pigwidgeon to the window. "You know what? I reckon you could win this tournament, Harry, I'm serious."

I knew that Ron was only saying this to make up for his behavior of the last few weeks, but I think that Harry appreciated it. Hermione, however, leaned against the Owlery wall, folded her arms, and frowned at Ron.

"Harry's got a long way to go before he finishes this tournament," she said seriously. "If that was the first task, I hate to think what's coming next."

"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?" said Ron. "You and Professor Trelawney should get together sometime."

"Hermione is right, Ron. The tournament is known for increasing the difficulties of the task. The first task is usually the easiest. It gets harder. I can't think what Harry and Cedric have to do for the second task. Or the third task for that matter." I said.

Ron shrugged and he threw Pigwidgeon out of the window. Pigwidgeon plummeted twelve feet before managing to pull himself back up again; the letter attached to his leg was much longer and heavier than usual - Harry hadn't been able to resist giving Sirius a blow-by-blow account of exactly how he had swerved, circled, and dodged the Horntail. With side comments from me, about how he looks up there. We watched Pigwidgeon disappear into the darkness, and then Ron said, "Well, we'd better get downstairs for your surprise party, Harry - Fred and George should have nicked enough food from the kitchens by now."

Sure enough, when we entered the Gryffindor common room it exploded with cheers and yells again. There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; Lee Jordan had let off some Filibuster's Fireworks, so that the air was thick with stars and sparks; and Dean Thomas, who was very good at drawing, had put up some impressive new banners, most of which depicted Harry zooming around the Horntail's head on his Firebolt, though a couple showed Cedric with his head on fire. I couldn't look at the last one. Once was more than enough.

Harry helped himself to food and sat down with Ron, Hermione and me. I couldn't believe how happy I felt; Harry has Ron back on his side, he'd gotten through the first task without too much injuries, and he wouldn't have to face the second one for three months.

"Blimey, this is heavy," said Lee Jordan, picking up the golden egg, which Harry had left on a table, and weighing it in his hands. "Open it, Harry, go on! Let's just see what's inside it!"

"He's supposed to work out the clue on his own," Hermione said swiftly. "It's in the tournament rules…"

"I was supposed to work out how to get past the dragon on my own too," Harry muttered, so only Hermione and me could hear him. Hermione grinned rather guiltily and I gave him one of my sweetest smile.

"I don't know what you are talking about Harry," I said innocently.

Harry laughed and shook his head.

"Yeah, go on, Harry, open it!" several people echoed.

Lee passed Harry the egg, and Harry dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and prised it open.

It was hollow and completely empty - but the moment Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room.

"Shut it!" Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears.

"What was that?" said Seamus Finnigan, staring at the egg as Harry slammed it shut again. "Sounded like a banshee… Maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry!"

"It was someone being tortured!" said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor.

"You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"

"Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal," said George. "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing… maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower. Harry."

"Want a jam tart, Hermione?" said Fred.

Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate he was offering her. Fred grinned.

"It's all right," he said. "I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch -"

Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out. Fred laughed.

"Just my little joke, Neville…"

Hermione took a jam tart. Then she said, "Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?"

"Yep," said Fred, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. "'Anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!' They're dead helpful… get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish."

"How do you get in there?" Hermione said in an innocently casual sort of voice. Hah, she didn't fool me!

"Easy," said Fred, "concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and -" He stopped and looked suspiciously at her. "Why?"

"Nothing," said Hermione quickly.

"Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?" said George. "Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?"

Several people chortled. Hermione didn't answer.

"Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!" said Fred warningly. "You'll put them off their cooking!"

Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning into a large canary.

"Oh - sorry, Neville!" Fred shouted over all the laughter. "I forgot - it was the custard creams we hexed -"

Within a minute, however, Neville had moulted, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared looking entirely normal. He even joined in laughing. "Canary Creams!" Fred shouted to the excitable crowd. "George and I invented them - seven Sickles each, a bargain!"

It was nearly one in the morning when I finally went up to the dormitory with Hermione, Parvati and Lavender. Before I pulled the curtains of my four-poster shut, Hermione and me talked about we saw today and about my talk with Cedric. We said goodnight and I pulled the hangings on my four-poster.

The start of December brought wind and sleet to Hogwarts. Drafty though the castle always was in winter, I was glad of its fires and thick walls every time I passed the Durmstrang ship on the lake, which was pitching in the high winds, its black sails billowing against the dark skies. I thought the Beauxbatons caravan was likely to be pretty chilly too. Hagrid, I noticed, was keeping Madame Maxime's horses well provided with their preferred drink of single-malt whiskey; the fumes wafting from the trough in the comer of their paddock was enough to make the entire Care of Magical Creatures class light-headed. This was unhelpful, as we were still tending the horrible skrewts and needed their wits about them.

"I'm not sure whether they hibernate or not," Hagrid told the shivering class in the windy pumpkin patch next lesson. "Thought we'd jus' try an see if they fancied a kip… we'll jus' settle 'em down in these boxes…"

There were now only ten skrewts left; apparently their desire to kill one another had not been exercised out of them. Each of them was now approaching six feet in length. Their thick gray armor; their powerful, scuttling legs; their fire-blasting ends; their stings and their suckers, combined to make the skrewts the most repulsive things I had ever seen. The class looked dispiritedly at the enormous boxes Hagrid had brought out, all lined with pillows and fluffy blankets.

"We'll jus' lead 'em in here," Hagrid said, "an' put the lids on, and we'll see what happens."

But the skrewts, it transpired, did not hibernate, and did not appreciate being forced into pillow-lined boxes and nailed in. Hagrid was soon yelling, "Don panic, now, don' panic!" while the skrewts rampaged around the pumpkin patch, now strewn with the smoldering wreckage of the boxes. Most of the class - Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle in the lead - had fled into Hagrid's cabin through the back door and barricaded themselves in; Harry, Ron, Hermione and me however, were among those who remained outside trying to help Hagrid. Together we managed to restrain and tie up nine of the skrewts, though at the cost of numerous burns and cuts; finally, only one skrewt was left.

"Don' frighten him, now!" Hagrid shouted as Ron and Harry used their wands to shoot jets of fiery sparks at the skrewt, which was advancing menacingly on them, its sting arched, quivering, over its back. "Jus' try an slip the rope 'round his sting, so he won hurt any o' the others!"

"Yeah, we wouldn't want that!" Ron shouted angrily as he and Harry backed into the wall of Hagrid's cabin, still holding the skrewt off with their sparks.

"Well, well, well… this does look like fun."

Rita Skeeter was leaning on Hagrid's garden fence, looking in at the mayhem. She was wearing a thick magenta cloak with a furry purple collar today, and her crocodile-skin handbag was over her arm.

Hagrid launched himself forward on top of the skrewt that was cornering Harry and Ron and flattened it; a blast of fire shot out of its end, withering the pumpkin plants nearby.

"Who're you?" Hagrid asked Rita Skeeter as he slipped a loop of rope around the skrewt's sting and tightened it.

"Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter," Rita replied, beaming at him. Her gold teeth glinted.

"Thought Dumbledore said you weren' allowed inside the school anymore," said Hagrid, frowning slightly as he got off the slightly squashed skrewt and started tugging it over to its fellows.

Rita acted as though she hadn't heard what Hagrid had said.

"What are these fascinating creatures called?" she asked, beaming still more widely.

"Blast-Ended Skrewts," grunted Hagrid.

"Really?" said Rita, apparently full of lively interest. "I've never heard of them before… where do they come from?"

I noticed a dull red flush rising up out of Hagrid's wild black beard, and my heart sank. Where had Hagrid got the skrewts from? Hermione, who seemed to be thinking along these lines, said quickly, "They're very interesting, aren't they? Aren't they. Harry?"

"What? Oh yeah… ouch… interesting," said Harry as she stepped on his foot.

"Ah, you're here, Harry!" said Rita Skeeter as she looked around. "So you like Care of Magical Creatures, do you? One of your favorite lessons?"

"Yes," said Harry stoutly. Hagrid beamed at him.

"Lovely," said Rita. "Really lovely. Been teaching long?" she added to Hagrid. Harry noticed her eyes travel over Dean (who had a nasty cut across one cheek). Lavender (whose robes were badly singed), Seamus (who was nursing several burnt fingers), and then to the cabin windows, where most of the class stood, their noses pressed against the glass waiting to see if the coast was clear.

"This is o'ny me second year," said Hagrid.

"Lovely… I don't suppose you'd like to give an interview, would you? Share some of your experience of magical creatures? The Prophet does a zoological column every Wednesday, as I'm sure you know. We could feature these - er - Bang- Ended Scoots."

"Blast-Ended Skrewts," Hagrid said eagerly. "Er - yeah, why not?"

I had a very bad feeling about this, but there was no way of communicating it to Hagrid without Rita Skeeter seeing, so the others and me had to stand and watch in silence as Hagrid and Rita Skeeter made arrangements to meet in the Three Broomsticks for a good long interview later that week. Then the bell rang up at the castle, signaling the end of the lesson.

"Well, good-bye, Harry!" Rita Skeeter called merrily to him as he set off with Ron, Hermione and me. "Until Friday night, then, Hagrid!"

"She'll twist everything he says," Harry said under his breath.

"Just as long as he didn't import those skrewts illegally or anything," said Hermione desperately. They looked at one another - it was exactly the sort of thing Hagrid might do.

"Hagrid's been in loads of trouble before, and Dumbledores never sacked him," said Ron consolingly. "Worst that can happen is Hagrid'll have to get rid of the skrewts. Sorry… did I say worst? I meant best."

Harry, Hermione and me laughed, and, feeling slightly more cheerful, went off to lunch.

Harry and me thoroughly enjoyed double Divination that afternoon; we were still doing star charts and predictions, but now that we and Ron were friends once more, the whole thing seemed very funny again. Professor Trelawney, who had been so pleased with the pair of them when they had been predicting their own horrific deaths, quickly became irritated as they sniggered through her explanation of the various ways in which Pluto could disrupt everyday life. I just sat there with a smile on my face. Boys will be boys.

"I would think," she said, in a mystical whisper that did not conceal her obvious annoyance, "that some of us" - she stared very meaningfully at Harry- "might be a little less frivolous had they seen what I have seen during my crystal gazing last night. As I sat here, absorbed in my needlework, the urge to consult the orb overpowered me. I arose, I settled myself before it, and I gazed into its crystalline depths… and what do you think I saw gazing back at me?"

"An ugly old bat in outsize specs?" Ron muttered under his breath.

Harry and I fought hard to keep our faces straight.

"Death, my dears."

Parvati and Lavender both put their hands over their mouths, looking horrified. Please, dramaqueens much?

"Yes," said Professor Trelawney, nodding impressively, "it comes, ever closer, it circles overhead like a vulture, ever lower… ever lower over the castle…" She stared pointedly at Harry, who yawned very widely and obviously.

"It'd be a bit more impressive if she hadn't done it about eighty times before," Harry said as we finally regained the fresh air of the staircase beneath Professor Trelawney's room. "But if I'd dropped dead every time she's told me I'm going to, I'd be a medical miracle."

"You'd be a sort of extra-concentrated ghost," said Ron, chortling, as they passed the Bloody Baron going in the opposite direction, his wide eyes staring sinisterly.

"At least we didn't get homework. I hope Hermione got loads off Professor Vector, I love not working when she is…"

But Hermione wasn't at dinner, nor was she in the library when we went to look for her afterward. The only person in there was Viktor Krum. Ron hovered behind the bookshelves for a while, watching Krum, debating in whispers with Harry whether he should ask for an autograph - but then Ron realized that six or seven girls were lurking in the next row of books, debating exactly the same thing, and he lost his enthusiasm for the idea. I noticed Krum staring at me now and then. That's strange.

"Wonder where she's got to?" Ron said as we went back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Dunno… balderdash."

But the Fat Lady had barely begun to swing forward when the sound of racing feet behind us announced Hermione's arrival.

"Harry!" she panted, skidding to a halt beside him (the Fat Lady stared down at her, eyebrows raised. "Harry, you've got to come - you've got to come, the most amazing thing's happened- please -"

She seized Harry's arm and started to try to drag him back along the corridor. "What's the matter?" Harry said.

"I'll show you when we get there - oh come on, quick -"

Harry looked around at Ron and me; Ron looked back at Harry, intrigued. I looked with a knowing smile. I think I know what Hermione is talking about.

"Okay," Harry said, starting off back down the corridor with Hermione, Ron and me hurrying to keep up.

"Oh don't mind me!" the Fat Lady called irritably after them. "Don't apologize for bothering me! I'll just hang here, wide open, until you get back, shall I?"

"Yeah, thanks!" Ron shouted over his shoulder.

"That would be absolutely splendid!" I yelled.

"Hermione, where are we going?" Harry asked, after she had led us down through six floors, and started down the marble staircase into the entrance hall.

"You'll see, you'll see in a minute!" said Hermione excitedly.

She turned left at the bottom of the staircase and hurried toward the door through which Cedric Diggory had gone the night after the Goblet of Fire had regurgitated his and Harry's names. I had never been through here before. Harry, Ron and me followed Hermione down a flight of stone steps, but instead of ending up in a gloomy underground passage like the one that led to Snape's dungeon, we found ourselves in a broad stone corridor, brightly lit with torches, and decorated with cheerful paintings that were mainly of food.

"Oh hang on…" said Harry slowly, halfway down the corridor. "Wait a minute, Hermione…"

"What?" She turned around to look at him, anticipation all over her face.

"I know what this is about," said Harry.

He nudged Ron and pointed to the painting just behind Hermione. It showed a gigantic silver fruit bowl.

"Hermione!" said Ron, cottoning on. "You're trying to rope us into that spew stuff again!"

"No, no, I'm not!" she said hastily. "And it's not spew, Ron -"

"Changed the name, have you?" said Ron, frowning at her. "What are we now, then, the House-Elf Liberation Front? I'm not barging into that kitchen and trying to make them stop work, I'm not doing it -"

"I'm not asking you to!" Hermione said impatiently. "I came down here just now, to talk to them all, and I found - oh come on, Harry, I want to show you!"

What is she going on about?

She seized his arm again, pulled him in front of the picture of the giant fruit bowl, stretched out her forefinger, and tickled the huge green pear. It began to squirm, chuckling, and suddenly turned into a large green door handle. Hermione seized it, pulled the door open, and pushed Harry hard in the back, forcing him inside. Ron and me followed them.

I had one brief glimpse of an enormous, high-ceilinged room, large as the Great Hall above it, with mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, and a great brick fireplace at the other end, when something small hurtled toward us from the middle of the room, squealing, "Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter!"

Next second the squealing elf hit Harry hard in the midriff, hugging him so tightly I thought his ribs would break.

"D-Dobby?" Harry gasped.

"It is Dobby, sir, it is!" squealed the voice from somewhere around Harry's navel. "Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir, and Harry Potter has come to see him, sir!"

Dobby let go and stepped back a few paces, beaming up at Harry, his enormous, green, tennis-ball-shaped eyes brimming with tears of happiness. The pencil-shaped nose, the batlike ears, the long fingers and feet - all except the clothes, which were very different. He was wearing the strangest assortment of garments I had ever seen; he had done an even worse job of dressing himself than the wizards at the World Cup. He was wearing a tea cozy for a hat, on which he had pinned a number of bright badges; a tie patterned with horseshoes over a bare chest, a pair of what looked like children's soccer shorts, and odd socks. One of these was a black one. The other was covered in pink and orange stripes.

"Dobby, what're you doing here?" Harry said in amazement.

"Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!" Dobby squealed excitedly. "Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby and Winky jobs, sir!"

"Winky?" said Harry. "She's here too?"

"Yes, sir, yes!" said Dobby, and he seized Harry's hand and pulled him off into the kitchen between the four long wooden tables that stood there. Each of these tables, I noticed as I passed them, was positioned exactly beneath the four House tables above, in the Great Hall. At the moment, they were clear of food, dinner having finished, but I suppose that an hour ago they had been laden with dishes that were then sent up through the ceiling to their counterparts above.

At least a hundred little elves were standing around the kitchen, beaming, bowing, and curtsying as Dobby led us past them. They were all wearing the same uniform: a tea towel stamped with the Hogwarts crest, and tied, as Winky's had been, like a toga.

Dobby stopped in front of the brick fireplace and pointed.

"Winky, sir!" he said.

Winky was sitting on a stool by the fire. Unlike Dobby, she had obviously not foraged for clothes. She was wearing a neat little skirt and blouse with a matching blue hat, which had holes in it for her large ears. However, while every one of Dobby's strange collection of garments was so clean and well cared for that it looked brand-new, Winky was plainly not taking care of her clothes at all. There were soup stains all down her blouse and a burn in her skirt.

"Hello, Winky," Harry said.

Winky's lip quivered. Then she burst into tears, which spilled out of her great brown eyes and splashed down her front, just as they had done at the Quidditch World Cup.

"Oh dear," said Hermione. "Winky, don't cry, please don't…"

But Winky cried harder than ever. Dobby, on the other hand, beamed up at Harry.

"Would Harry Potter like a cup of tea?" he squeaked loudly, over Winky's sobs.

"Er - yeah, okay," said Harry.

Instantly, about six house-elves came trotting up behind him, bearing a large silver tray laden with a teapot, cups for Harry, Ron, Hermione and me, a milk jug, and a large plate of biscuits.

"Good service!" Ron said, in an impressed voice. Hermione frowned at him, but the elves all looked delighted; they bowed very low and retreated.

"How long have you been here, Dobby?" Harry asked as Dobby handed around the tea.

"Only a week. Harry Potter, sir!" said Dobby happily. "Dobby came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir. You see, sir, it is very difficult for a house-elf who has been dismissed to get a new position, sir, very difficult indeed -"

At this, Winky howled even harder, her squashed-tomato of a nose dribbling all down her front, though she made no effort to stem the flow.

"Dobby has traveled the country for two whole years, sir, trying to find work!" Dobby squeaked. "But Dobby hasn't found work, sir, because Dobby wants paying now!"

The house-elves all around the kitchen, who had been listening and watching with interest, all looked away at these words, as though Dobby had said something rude and embarrassing. Hermione, however, said, "Good for you, Dobby!"

"Thank you, miss!" said Dobby, grinning toothily at her. "But most wizards doesn't want a house-elf who wants paying, miss. 'That's not the point of a house-elf,' they says, and they slammed the door in Dobby's face! Dobby likes work, but he wants to wear clothes and he wants to be paid. Harry Potter… Dobby likes being free!"

The Hogwarts house-elves had now started edging away from Dobby, as though he were carrying something contagious. Winky, however, remained where she was, though there was a definite increase in the volume other crying.

"And then, Harry Potter, Dobby goes to visit Winky, and finds out Winky has been freed too, sir!" said Dobby delightedly.

At this, Winky flung herself forward off her stool and lay face-down on the flagged stone floor, beating her tiny fists upon it and positively screaming with misery. Hermione hastily dropped down to her knees beside her and tried to comfort her, but nothing she said made the slightest difference. Dobby continued with his story, shouting shrilly over Winky's screeches.

"And then Dobby had the idea, Harry Potter, sir! 'Why doesn't Dobby and Winky find work together?' Dobby says. 'Where is there enough work for two house elves?' says Winky. And Dobby thinks, and it comes to him, sir! Hogwarts! So Dobby and Winky came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir, and Professor Dumbledore took us on!"

Dobby beamed very brightly, and happy tears welled in his eyes again.

"And Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, sir, if Dobby wants paying! And so Dobby is a free elf, sir, and Dobby gets a Galleon a week and one day off a month!"

"That's not very much!" Hermione shouted indignantly from the floor, over Winky's continued screaming and fist-beating.

"Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby ten Galleons a week, and weekends off," said Dobby, suddenly giving a little shiver, as though the prospect of so much leisure and riches were frightening, "but Dobby beat him down, miss… Dobby likes freedom, miss, but he isn't wanting too much, miss, he likes work better."

"And how much is Professor Dumbledore paying you, Winky?" Hermione asked kindly.

If she had thought this would cheer up Winky, she was wildly mistaken. Winky did stop crying, but when she sat up she was glaring at Hermione through her massive brown eyes, her whole face sopping wet and suddenly furious.

"Winky is a disgraced elf, but Winky is not yet getting paid!" she squeaked. "Winky is not sunk so low as that! Winky is properly ashamed of being freed!"

"Ashamed?" said Hermione blankly. "But - Winky, come on! It's Mr. Crouch who should be ashamed, not you! You didn't do anything wrong, he was really horrible to you -"

But at these words, Winky clapped her hands over the holes in her hat, flattening her ears so that she couldn't hear a word, and screeched, "You is not insulting my master, miss! You is not insulting Mr. Crouch! Mr. Crouch is a good wizard, miss! Mr. Crouch is right to sack bad Winky!"

"Winky is having trouble adjusting, Harry Potter," squeaked Dobby confidentially. "Winky forgets she is not bound to Mr. Crouch anymore; she is allowed to speak her mind now, but she won't do it."

"Can't house-elves speak their minds about their masters, then?" Harry asked.

"Oh no, sir, no," said Dobby, looking suddenly serious. "'Tis part of the house-elf's enslavement, sir. We keeps their secrets and our silence, sir. We upholds the family's honor, and we never speaks ill of them - though Professor Dumbledore told Dobby he does not insist upon this. Professor Dumbledore said we is free to - to-"

Dobby looked suddenly nervous and beckoned Harry closer. Harry bent forward and so did I. I wanted to hear this.

Dobby whispered, "He said we is free to call him a - a barmy old codger if we likes, sir!"

Dobby gave a frightened sort of giggle. Harry and me laughed.

"But Dobby is not wanting to, Harry Potter," he said, talking normally again, and shaking his head so that his ears flapped. "Dobby likes Professor Dumbledore very much, sir, and is proud to keep his secrets and our silence for him."

"But you can say what you like about the Malfoys now?" Harry asked him, grinning.

A slightly fearful look came into Dobby's immense eyes.

"Dobby - Dobby could," he said doubtfully. He squared his small shoulders. "Dobby could tell Harry Potter that his old masters were - were - bad Dark wizards'."

Dobby stood for a moment, quivering all over, horror-struck by his own daring - then he rushed over to the nearest table and began banging his head on it very hard, squealing, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

Harry seized Dobby by the back of his tie and pulled him away from the table.

"Thank you. Harry Potter, thank you," said Dobby breathlessly, rubbing his head.

"You just need a bit of practice," Harry said.

"Practice!" squealed Winky furiously. "You is ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dobby, talking that way about your masters!"

"They isn't my masters anymore, Winky!" said Dobby defiantly. "Dobby doesn't care what they think anymore!"

"Oh you is a bad elf, Dobby!" moaned Winky, tears leaking down her face once more. "My poor Mr. Crouch, what is he doing without Winky? He is needing me, he is needing my help! I is looking after the Crouches all my life, and my mother is doing it before me, and my grandmother is doing it before her… oh what is they saying if they knew Winky was freed? Oh the shame, the shame!" She buried her face in her skirt again and bawled.

"Winky," said Hermione firmly, "I'm quite sure Mr. Crouch is getting along perfectly well without you. We've seen him, you know -"

"You is seeing my master?" said Winky breathlessly, raising her tearstained face out of her skirt once more and goggling at Hermione. "You is seeing him here at Hogwarts?"

"Yes," said Hermione, "he and Mr. Bagman are judges in the Triwizard Tournament."

"Mr. Bagman comes too?" squeaked Winky, and to my great surprise (and Ron's, Hermione's and Harry's too, by the looks on their faces), she looked angry again. "Mr. Bagman is a bad wizard! A very bad wizard! My master isn't liking him, oh no, not at all!"

"Bagman - bad?" said Harry.

"Oh yes," Winky said, nodding her head furiously, "My master is telling Winky some things! But Winky is not saying… Winky - Winky keeps her master's secrets…"

She dissolved yet again in tears; they could hear her sobbing into her skirt, "Poor master, poor master, no Winky to help him no more!"

We couldn't get another sensible word out of Winky. We left her to her crying and finished our tea, while Dobby chatted happily about his life as a free elf and his plans for his wages.

"Dobby is going to buy a sweater next, Harry Potter!" he said happily, pointing at his bare chest.

"Tell you what, Dobby," said Ron, who seemed to have taken a great liking to the elf, "I'll give you the one my mum knits me this Christmas, I always get one from her. You don't mind maroon, do you?"

Dobby was delighted.

"We might have to shrink it a bit to fit you," Ron told him, "but it'll go well with your tea cozy."

As we prepared to take our leave, many of the surrounding elves pressed in upon us, offering snacks to take back upstairs. Hermione refused, with a pained look at the way the elves kept bowing and curtsying, but Harry and Ron loaded their pockets with cream cakes and pies. I just thanked them and toke one. Just to be polite, I will give them to the boys later.

"Thanks a lot!" Harry said to the elves, who had all clustered around the door to say good night. "See you, Dobby!"

"Harry Potter… can Dobby come and see you sometimes, sir?" Dobby asked tentatively.

"'Course you can," said Harry, and Dobby beamed.

"You know what?" said Ron, once he, Hermione, Harry and me had left the kitchens behind and were climbing the steps into the entrance hall again. "All these years I've been really impressed with Fred and George, nicking food from the kitchens - well, it's not exactly difficult, is it? They can't wait to give it away!"

"I think this is the best thing that could have happened to those elves, you know," said Hermione, leading the way back up the marble staircase. "Dobby coming to work here, I mean. The other elves will see how happy he is, being free, and slowly it'll dawn on them that they want that too!"

"Let's hope they don't look too closely at Winky," said Harry.

"Oh she'll cheer up," said Hermione, though she sounded a bit doubtful. "Once the shock's worn off, and she's got used to Hogwarts, she'll see how much better off she is without that Crouch man."

"She seems to love him," said Ron thickly (he had just started on a cream cake).

"Doesn't think much of Bagman, though, does she?" said Harry. "Wonder what Crouch says at home about him?"

"Probably says he's not a very good Head of Department," I said, "and let's face it… he's got a point, hasn't he?"

"I'd still rather work for him than old Crouch," said Ron. "At least Bagman's got a sense of humor."

"Don't let Percy hear you saying that," Hermione said, smiling slightly.

"Yeah, well, Percy wouldn't want to work for anyone with a sense of humor, would he?" said Ron, now starting on a chocolate eclair. "Percy wouldn't recognize a joke if it danced naked in front of him wearing Dobby's tea cozy."

**A/N: wauw this chapter was finished quit quick **** I hope you like it, let me know. Only 1 chapter to go before something big happens, read to find what!**


	18. The Perfect Date

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews!**

**A happy Newyear for all!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

**Chapter 18: The Perfect Date**

"Potter! Weasley! Will you pay attention?"

Professor McGonagall's irritated voice cracked like a whip through the Transfiguration class on Thursday, and Harry and Ron both jumped and looked up. Hermione sighed and I just shook my head with a smile on my face. It's always the same thing.

It was the end of the lesson; we had finished our work; the guinea fowl we had been changing into guinea pigs had been shut away in a large cage on Professor McGonagall's desk (Neville's still had feathers); we had copied down our homework from the blackboard ("Describe, with examples, the ways in which Transforming Spells must be adapted when performing Cross-Species Switches"}.

The bell was due to ring at any moment, and Harry and Ron, who had been having a sword fight with a couple of Fred and George's fake wands at the back of the class, looked up, Ron holding a tin parrot and Harry, a rubber haddock. I was betting on Harry, but don't let anyone know.

"Now that Potter and Weasley have been kind enough to act their age," said Professor McGonagall, with an angry look at the pair of them as the head of Harry's haddock drooped and fell silently to the floor - Ron's parrot's beak had severed it moments before (Damn, that means Harry lost).

"I have something to say to you all. The Yule Ball is approaching, a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above - although you may invite a younger student if you wish -"

Lavender Brown let out a shrill giggle. Parvati Patil nudged her hard in the ribs, her face working furiously as she too fought not to giggle. They both looked around at Harry.

Professor McGonagall ignored them. I gave them a glare.

"Dress robes will be worn," Professor McGonagall continued, "and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then -"

Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class.

"The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to - er - let our hair down," she said, in a disapproving voice.

Lavender giggled harder than ever, with her hand pressed hard against her mouth to stifle the sound. I could see what was funny this time: Professor McGonagall, with her hair in a tight bun, looked as though she had never let her hair down in any sense.

"But that does NOT mean," Professor McGonagall went on, "that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way."

The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders.

Professor McGonagall called above the noise, "Potter - a word, if you please."

Assuming this had something to do with his headless rubber haddock, I wished him luck as he walked towards the teacher's desk. I walked out the classroom with Hermione and Ron. On the way to the common room, Hermione and me were discussing the lesson we just had, Ron was in his own world. I think he learned how to shut us out.

We were just sitting down in our favorite couches before the fire when Harry came trough the entrance with a look of sorrow on his face.

"How bad was it mate?" Ron asked.

"Terrible…" Harry said and he let him fall between Hermione and me.

"Honestly Harry, it can't be that bad," Hermione said with a huff.

"This is going to be my death, I swear. I rather have another round with the dragon," he said and he closed his eyes.

"What do you have to do that's so bad you rather risk your live again?" I asked.

"There's a ball coming and I have to ask a date and I have to dance with her on front of everybody!" Harry said while throwing his arms in the air.

"That's it? You didn't even get a punishment? You are being dramatic because you have to ask a girl to a ball and dance with her?" I asked disbelieving. Hermione looked even worse than me.

"Are girls really that bad, Harry?" she asked with a dangerous voice.

"No, no offcourse not! I just don't know how and who and dancing? I don't dance, I don't! I'm going to make a fool of myself!" Harry said quickly and sounding more and more depressed.

I looked at Harry and started giggling. I looked over to Ron and saw the same terrified look on his face. It was too much, I broke out in a full laugh. Soon Hermione joined me.

"Unbelievable. The boy who faced a dragon, hundreds of dementors, Voldemort and al those other things, is afraid of girls and dances!" I said laughing.

Harry and Ron gave us angry looks before they went upstairs. Hermione and me kept laughing. When the boys got back down, we apologized and we went to dinner together.

Coming in the Great Hall, we could feel and hear the excitement of everybody (and with everybody, I mean the girls). Harry and Ron groaned, Hermione and me smiled. We took our place at the Gryffindor table. Lavender and Parvati immediately began to whisper and looking at Harry. Are they thinking that Harry would ask one of them? Hah, fat chance!

Suddenly, they stopped whispering and with big eyes they looked at something behind me. Their mouths were so far open, I was thinking that they were going to eat flies. Their eyes moved to me and back to wathever there was behind me. Then back to me, was that jealousy I detected in their eyes.

"Hey beautiful," a very familiar voice said behind me. I turned around and I saw Ian standing there with a big smile on his face and a beautiful white rose in his hand.

"Hi Ian," I said back smiling, "What are you doing?"

"Helping out a friend," he said with a wink. "This rose is for you. No it's not from me, I'm just a helper."

I took the rose and it smelled amazing. "Thank you, Ian. Is there something else?"

"Oh yes, you're not done yet," Ian said with a big smile. "I would go outside the hall if I was you, like right now!" With that he turned and walked away.

I turned back to the others. "What was that all about?" I asked Hermione.

She just smiled and said, "I think you need to go somewhere, Aurora. And I think you need to go now."

"Is there something going on between you and Ian? You just both said the same thing."

"Just go, will you!" she said smiling and nodded to the door.

With a beating heart I stood up and went to the doors. I passed Ian and he gave me the thumps up. Shaking my head I passed the doors and stopped right outside. I looked around and somebody was standing at my right. When I took a closer look, I saw it was Rob, a friend of Ian and Cedric. He was also holding a white rose. He winked at me and held out the rose. I walked to him and took the rose. It smelled just as good as the other one. I looked up at Rob and he nodded to the hallway next to him. I said thanks and walked through the hallway.

Now and then I would meet a friend off Cedric with a white rose. Everytime they winked and set me on my way. After five roses I got to the doors to the grounds. Two friends, Nicolas and Mark, opened the doors for me and each gave me a rose. They send me in the direction of the lake. I came across a pathway of white roses. I followed the trail and at the end stood Cedric with a big smile on his face. He held five roses in one hand and the other took my hand and pulled me close so he could give me a kiss. I felt like I was in heaven.

"Hey beautiful," he said with a wink.

"Hi," I said back smiling.

"Aurora, I wanted to ask you something and that's way I brought you out here, with the help of my friends."

Oh my god! This was so romantic!

"Aurora, would you do me the honor of becoming my date to the ball?" and he held out the flowers.

"I would be delighted," I said back and I took the flowers. I laid them on the grounds. I wouldn't want to break them. I threw my arms around Cedric and kissed him. He took me of the ground and was spinning us around.

He placed me back on the ground, but kept me in his arms, and he smiled at me.

"Wonderful!" he said and I laughed.

"I can't believe you got all your friends to do this. And all the flowers, it's really amazing! Thank you so much. You are the best boyfriend ever!" I said.

"It took some organization, but I got it done. You can thank Professor Sprout for the flowers and my friends wanted to help. And you are the most beautiful girl so you deserved this! It also a way of saying sorry for making you worry during the first task."

"That's so sweet of you!" and I kissed him again.

"Come on, let's go back inside. The heating spell won't last forever," Cedric said and he gave me a sweet kiss on the lips, got my flowers, took my hand and together we walked back to the Great Hall.

When we got there a loud noise could be heard from the Hufflepuffs table. All the friends of Cedric were yelling and clapping. Cedric waved at them, gave me a kiss and my flowers and walked towards them. Ian looked at me and winked and I smiled back.

I walked back to my seat with a big smile on my face. I saw Hermione and Parvati beaming, Lavender looking furious and the boys looking at me. I sat down and told Hermione and Parvati everything. I could tell that the boys were listening in. after I was done, Hermione and Parvati sighed.

"That was so romantic! You really are a lucky girl, Aurora," Parvati said smiling and she turned back to Lavender.

"That's just great. How are we supposed to top that?" Seamus said and all the boys nodded. I didn't care, I was still at the place at the lake.

I had never known so many people to put their names down to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. This year, however, everyone in the fourth year and above seemed to be staying, and they all seemed to be obsessed with the coming ball - or at least all the girls were. Girls giggling and whispering in the corridors, girls shrieking with laughter as boys passed them, girls excitedly comparing notes on what they were going to wear on Christmas night…

"Why do they have to move in packs?" Harry asked Ron as a dozen or so girls walked past us, sniggering and staring at Harry. "How're you supposed to get one on their own to ask them?"

"Lasso one?" Ron suggested. "Got any idea who you're going to try?"

"Excuse me! Lasso one? Really Ron, why don't you just go ask a girl!" I said with a glare.

"Listen, you're not going to have any trouble. You're a champion. You've just beaten a Hungarian Horntail. I bet they'll be queuing up to go with you." Ron said, ignoring me again. Boys!

In tribute to their recently repaired friendship, Ron had kept the bitterness in his voice to a bare minimum. Moreover, to Harry's amazement, he turned out to be quite right.

A curly-haired third-year Hufflepuff girl to whom Harry had never spoken in his life asked him to go to the ball with her the very next day. Harry said no really quick and I shook my head. This is going to be a disaster!

The girl walked off looking rather hurt, and Harry had to endure Dean's, Seamus's, and Ron's taunts about her all through History of Magic. The following day, two more girls asked him, a second year and a fifth year who looked as though she might knock him out if he refused.

"She was quite good-looking," said Ron fairly, after he'd stopped laughing.

"She was a foot taller than me," said Harry, still unnerved. "Imagine what I'd look like trying to dance with her."

"That's not an excuse! You shouldn't think like that! This way you never will get a date to the ball," I said and I walked away with Hermione to the library.

On the whole, Harry's life had definitely improved since he had got through the first task. He wasn't attracting nearly as much unpleasantness in the corridors anymore, which had a lot to do with Cedric – I asked cedric if he could talk to them and it seemed that it had worked.

There seemed to be fewer Support Cedric Diggory! badges around too. Draco Malfoy, of course, was still quoting Rita Skeeter's article to Harry at every possible opportunity, but he was getting fewer and fewer laughs out of it - and just to heighten Harry's and mine feeling of well-being, no story about Hagrid had appeared in the Daily Prophet.

"She didn' seem very int'rested in magical creatures, ter tell yeh the truth," Hagrid said, when Harry, Ron, Hermione and me asked him how his interview with Rita Skeeter had gone during the last Care of Magical Creatures lesson of the term. To our very great relief, Hagrid had given up on direct contact with the skrewts now, and they were merely sheltering behind his cabin today, sitting at a trestle table and preparing a fresh selection of food with which to tempt the skrewts.

"She jus' wanted me ter talk about you, Harry," Hagrid continued in a low voice. "Well, I told her we'd been friends since I went ter fetch yeh from the Dursleys. 'Never had to tell him off in four years?' she said. 'Never played you up in lessons, has he?' I told her no, an she didn' seem happy at all. Yeh'd think she wanted me to say yeh were horrible, Harry."

"'Course she did," said Harry, throwing lumps of dragon liver into a large metal bowl and picking up his knife to cut some more. "She can't keep writing about what a tragic little hero I am, it'll get boring."

"She wants a new angle, Hagrid," said Ron wisely as he shelled salamander eggs. "You were supposed to say Harry's a mad delinquent!"

"But he's not!" said Hagrid, looking genuinely shocked.

"She should've interviewed Snape," said Harry grimly. "He'd give her the goods on me any day. 'Potter has been crossing lines ever since he first arrived at this school… '"

"Said that, did he?" said Hagrid, while Ron, Hermione and me laughed. "Well, yeh might've bent a few rules. Harry, bu' yeh're all righ' really, aren' you?"

"Cheers, Hagrid," said Harry, grinning.

"You coming to this ball thing on Christmas Day, Hagrid?" said Ron.

"Though' I might look in on it, yeah," said Hagrid gruffly. "Should be a good do, I reckon. You'll be openin the dancin', won yeh, Harry? Who're you takin'?"

"No one, yet," said Harry, going red again. Hagrid didn't pursue the subject.

The last week of term became increasingly boisterous as it progressed. Rumours about the Yule Ball were flying everywhere, though I didn't believe half of them - for instance, that Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta. It seemed to be fact, however, that he had booked the Weird Sisters.

Some of the teachers, like little Professor Flitwick, gave up trying to teach us much when our minds were so clearly elsewhere; he allowed us to play games in his lesson on Wednesday, and spent most of it talking to Harry about the perfect Summoning Charm Harry had used during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Other teachers were not so generous. Nothing would ever deflect Professor Binns, for example, from plowing on through his notes on goblin rebellions - as Binns hadn't let his own death stand in the way of continuing to teach, we supposed a small thing like Christmas wasn't going to put him off. It was amazing how he could make even bloody and vicious goblin riots sound as boring as Percy's cauldron-bottom report.

Professors McGonagall and Moody kept us working until the very last second of their classes too, and Snape, of course, would no sooner let them play games in class than adopt Harry or me. Staring nastily around at us all, he informed us that he would be testing us on poison antidotes during the last lesson of the term.

"Evil, he is," Ron said bitterly that night in the Gryffindor common room. "Springing a test on us on the last day. Ruining the last bit of term with a whole load of studying."

"Mmm… you're not exactly straining yourself, though, are you?" said Hermione, looking at him over the top of her Potions notes. Ron was busy building a card castle out of his Exploding Snap pack - a much more interesting pastime than with Muggle cards, because of the chance that the whole thing would blow up at any second.

"It's Christmas, Hermione," said Harry lazily; he was rereading Flying with the Cannons for the tenth time in an armchair near the fire. Hermione looked severely over at him too.

"I'd have thought you'd be doing something constructive, Harry, even if you don't want to learn your antidotes!"

"Like what?" Harry said.

"That egg!" Hermione hissed.

"Come on, Hermione, I've got till February the twenty-fourth," Harry said.

"But it might take weeks to work it out!" said Hermione. "You're going to look a real idiot if everyone else knows what the next task is and you don't!"

"Leave him alone, Hermione, he's earned a bit of a break," said Ron, and he placed the last two cards on top of the castle and the whole lot blew up, singeing his eyebrows.

"Nice look Ron… go well with your dress robes, that will."

It was Fred and George. They sat down at the table with Harry, Ron, Hermione and me as Ron felt how much damage had been done.

"Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?" George asked.

"No, he's off delivering a letter," said Ron. "Why?"

"Because George wants to invite him to the ball," said Fred sarcastically.

"Because we want to send a letter, you stupid great prat," said George.

"Who d'you two keep writing to, eh?" said Ron.

"Nose out, Ron, or I'll burn that for you too," said Fred, waving his wand threateningly. "So… you lot got dates for the ball yet?"

"Nope," said Ron.

"Well, you'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone," said Fred.

"Who're you going with, then?" said Ron.

"Angelina," said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment.

"What?" said Ron, taken aback. "You've already asked her?"

"Good point," said Fred. He turned his head and called across the common room, "Oy! Angelina!"

Angelina, who had been chatting with Alicia Spinnet near the fire, looked over at him.

"What?" she called back.

"Want to come to the ball with me?"

Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look.

"All right, then," she said, and she turned back to Alicia and carried on chatting with a bit of a grin on her face.

"There you go," said Fred to Harry and Ron, "piece of cake."

He got to his feet, yawning, and said, "We'd better use a school owl then, George, come on…"

They left. Ron stopped feeling his eyebrows and looked across the smoldering wreck of his card castle at Harry.

"We should get a move on, you know… ask someone. He's right. We don't want to end up with a pair of trolls."

I looked up from my book to take a look at Ron and Hermione. Here we go again. Will that boy never learn?

Hermione let out a sputter of indignation.

"A pair of… what, excuse me?"

"Well - you know," said Ron, shrugging. "I'd rather go alone than with – with Eloise Midgen, say."

"Her acne's loads better lately - and she's really nice!"

"Her nose is off-center," said Ron.

"Oh I see," Hermione said, bristling. "So basically, you're going to take the best looking girl who'll have you, even if she's completely horrible?"

"Er - yeah, that sounds about right," said Ron.

"I'm going to bed," Hermione snapped, and she swept off toward the girls' staircase without another word.

I hit Ron at the back of his head, gave him a glare and followed Hermione while muttering boys.

The Hogwarts staff, demonstrating a continued desire to impress the visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, seemed determined to show the castle at its best this Christmas. When the decorations went up, I noticed that they were the most stunning he had yet seen inside the school. Mind you, it's only my second Christmas, but still. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armor had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them. It was quite something to hear "O Come, All Ye Faithful" sung by an empty helmet that only knew half the words. Several times, Filch the caretaker had to extract Peeves from inside the armor, where he had taken to hiding, filling in the gaps in the songs with lyrics of his own invention, all of which were very rude.

Harry and Ron were getting very nervous now, though as Harry pointed out, Ron would look much less stupid than he would without a partner; Harry was supposed to be starting the dancing with the other champions.

"I suppose there's always Moaning Myrtle," he said gloomily, referring to the ghost who haunted the girls' toilets on the second floor.

"Harry - we've just got to grit our teeth and do it," said Ron on Friday morning, in a tone that suggested they were planning the storming of an impregnable fortress.

"When we get back to the common room tonight, we'll both have partners - agreed?"

"Er… okay," said Harry.

Hermione and me looked at each other and had to held back a laugh. Boys can be so stupid sometimes.

When the bell rang, Harry grabbed his bag, and hurried to the dungeon door.

"I'll meet you at dinner," he said to Ron, Hermione and me and he dashed off upstairs. Ron said he meet us there to and he ran off to.

"Library?" Hermione asked and I nodded.

We sat on our usual table and began to word on our assignments. It didn't take long for Hermione to go away in search of a book. I was finished and took out the book Hermione gave to me last year for Christmas. I was beginning at chapter ten when I saw somebody sitting across me that didn't look like Hermione. I looked up and Krum was sitting at my table, staring at me.

"Hi, can I help you?" I asked.

"Da, I vas vondering I've I could ask you a question," he said.

"Sure, go ahead."

"It's about the ball,"

"Oh, eu… I'm sorry but my boyfriend already asked me and I said yes, so eu…"

"Vat? Oh no, I vasn't going to ask you. I vas vondering if your friend vas asked already," he said going red.

"You mean Hermione?" I asked leaning forward. Just to make sure I heard correctly.

"Da, I vould like to ask her."

"Oh, ok, well so far I know, nobody asked her so she is still free. You want go to the ball with her?"

"Da."

"Well, here's your chance. Ask her," I said and I pointed to Hermione who was standing behind him with her mouth open and a thick book in her hands.

Krum turned around, stood up and took one of Hermione's hands in his one.

"My lady, vould you do me the honor of becoming my date for the ball?" Krum asked her while giving a smile bow.

Hermione's eyes sought out mine and I nodded to her, smiling. Say yes, I mouthed.

"S..s.. ," Hermione said stammering.

Krum smiled and kissed the back of her hand.

"Vonderfl, I vill see you again soon, I hope." And with Krum left.

Hermione still stood there, looking at his back, her mouth open.

"Oh my god, Hermione, you got a date with Krum! That's vonderful!" I said smiling.

That broke her out of her trance and she sat down on her chair. "Did that really happen?"

"oh da!"

"I got a date? With Viktor?"

"Da!" I said.

"oh stop it you!" she said smiling and her eyes were twinkling.

We started laughing and soon we were back doing the things we were doing. About five minutes later, we were interrupted by Neville.

"Hi Hermione, Aurora."

"Hi Neville," we both said.

"Euh… Hermione, can I ask you something?" he said starting to get a little red.

"Sure Neville, what's going on?" Hermione said smiling.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go to the ball with me?" he said very shy.

"Oh, Neville, I'm sorry, somebody already asked me. Otherwise I would be honored to go with you," Hermione said.

"oh, ok, it's ok, don't worry about it," Neville said, looking really down. And then I got an idea.

"Hey Neville, why don't you ask Ginny? You know her and she's staying and I know she really wants to go. I'm sure you two will have a great time!" I said touching his arm and smiling.

That got back smile on his face. "Yeah, that's a good idea, Aurora, thank you!" and of he was.

"Good idea, Aurora. Do you think Ginny will say yes?" Hermione asked me.

"I think so yes. You heard her, she wants to go. I don't think she's going to say no."

We stayed there a little longer and then we both said that we had given the boys enough time. We gathered our stuff and walked to the Great Hall to get dinner. Neither Harry or Ron where there. I saw Neville with a smile on his face. I'm guessing Ginny said yes. Hermione and me hurried and walked back to the common room.

"Fairy lights," I said to the Fat Lady - the password had been changed the previous day.

"Yes, indeed, dear!" she trilled, straightening her new tinsel hair band as she swung forward to admit us.

Entering the common room, wed looked around, and to our surprise we saw Ron sitting ashen-faced in a distant corner. Ginny was sitting with him, talking to him in what seemed to be a low, soothing voice.

"What's going on, Ron?" I said, joining them. Hermione followed me.

Ron looked up at me, a sort of blind horror in his face.

"Why did I do it?" he said wildly. "I don't know what made me do it!"

"What?" Hermione asked.

"He - er - just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him," said Ginny. She looked as though she was fighting back a smile, but she kept patting Ron's arm sympathetically.

"You what?' Hermione said.

"I don't know what made me do it!" Ron gasped again. "What was I playing at? There were people - all around - I've gone mad - everyone watching! I was just walking past her in the entrance hall - she was standing there talking to Diggory - and it sort of came over me - and I asked her!"

Ron moaned and put his face in his hands. He kept talking, though the words were barely distinguishable.

"She looked at me like I was a sea slug or something. Didn't even answer. And then - I dunno - I just sort of came to my senses and ran for it."

"She's part veela," said Harry. "You were right - her grandmother was one. It wasn't your fault, I bet you just walked past when she was turning on the old charm for Diggory and got a blast of it - but she was wasting her time, seeing he's already taking Aurora."

We looked up. We didn't notice Harry joining us.

"How did it go with you?" I asked.

"I asked Cho and she said yes," Harry said.

I smiled and Hermione said, "That's great Harry!"

Yeah, it was great then why was I feeling like somebody just punched me in the stomach? Why was I feeling like this? I should be happy for Harry that he got someone for the ball. Maybe it's because I can't stand Cho. Yeah that's probably it! Nothing to worry about.

"This is mad," said Ron. "I'm the only ons left who haven't got anyone - well, except Neville. Hey - guess who he asked? Hermione!"

"What?" said Harry, completely distracted by this startling news.

"Eum … guys," I tried to say. Sometimes these two really get them worked up about something that they forget that we are here. I mean Hermione is right sitting next to Ron, with a murderous look on her face, may I add.

"Yeah, I know!" said Ron, some of the color coming back into his face as he started to laugh. "He told me! Said she's always been really nice, helping him out with work and stuff - but she told him she was already going with someone. Ha! As if! She just didn't want to go with Neville… I mean, who would?"

"Don't!" said Ginny, annoyed. "Don't laugh -"

"All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?" said Hermione angry. "Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone somewhere who'll have you."

Ron was staring at Hermione with fear in his eyes. Oh yes, he just dig is own grave. But then he looked at her in a different way.

"Hermione, Neville's right - you are a girl…"

"Oh well spotted," she said acidly.

"Well - you can come with me!"

Oh, this is rich! I had to control myself for not laughing out loud.

"No, I can't," snapped Hermione.

"Oh come on," he said impatiently, "we need partners, we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any, everyone else has…"

"I can't come with you," said Hermione, now blushing, "because I'm already going with someone."

"No, you're not!" said Ron. "You just said that to get rid of Neville!"

"Oh did I?" said Hermione, and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!"

Ron stared at her. Then he grinned again.

"Okay, okay, we know you're a girl," he said. "Leave me out of this," Harry muttered.

"That do? Will you come now?"

"I've already told you!" Hermione said very angrily. "I'm going with someone else!"

And she stormed off toward the girls' dormitories again. Doesn't boy own a brain?

"She's lying," said Ron flatly, watching her go.

"She's not," I said quietly.

"Who is it then?" said Ron sharply.

"I'm not telling you, it's her business," I said.

"Right," said Ron, who looked extremely put out, "this is getting stupid. Ginny, you can go with me, I have no other choice."

"I can't," said Ginny, and she went scarlet too. "I'm going with - with Neville. He asked me when Hermione said no, and I thought… well… I'm not going to be able to go otherwise, I'm not in fourth year." She looked extremely miserable. "I think I'll go and have dinner," she said, and she got up and walked off to the portrait hole, her head bowed.

Ron goggled at Harry and me.

"What's got into them?" he demanded.

But I had just seen Parvati and Lavender come in through the portrait hole. Harry stood up.

"Wait here," Harry said to Ron, and he walked straight up to Parvati, and said, "Parvati? Will you go to the ball with Ron? He's too shy to ask you himself."

Parvati went into a fit of giggles. Harry waited for them to subside. I went to stand next to Harry. I wanted to hear this. I felt Ron coming up behind us. Parvati looked at Ron.

"Yes, all right then," she said finally, blushing furiously.

"Thanks," said Harry, in relief. Ron mumbled thanks too, gave Parvati a smile and walked away together with Harry.

"So Lavender, you got a date?" I asked, just to be polite.

"She's going with Seamus," said Parvati, and the pair of them giggled harder than ever.

I sighed. I hated when they giggle all the time.

"Hey, Aurora, why didn't Ron asked Hermione?" Parvati asked.

"She's going with someone else." I said.

Parvati looked astonished.

"Ooooh - who?" she asked.

"Not my story to tell, sorry. You are going to ask her and I don't think she will tell. See you later," I said and I walked back to the boys.

**A/N: Finally, it took me forever to finish this chapter. The inspiration came to me this morning while I was studying. I had the write before I lost it again. **

**I'm terribly sorry it took so long to update! **

**I hope you like it! Tell me what you think! Wish me good luck with my exams too! **


	19. The Yule Ball

**A/N: I'm so sorry for the late update! For those who are wondering, I didn't stop, I plan on completing every year and maybe even further! I was and still am really busy. A lot of schoolwork right now! Again my apologies!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

**Chapter 19: The Yule Ball**

Despite the very heavy load of homework that the fourth years had been given for the holidays, Harry and Ron were in no mood to work when term ended, and spent the week leading up to Christmas enjoying themself as fully as possible along with everyone else. Hermione and me tried to get our work done, so we would have more free time later and less stress.

Gryffindor Tower was hardly less crowded now than during term-time; it seemed to have shrunk slightly too, as its inhabitants were being so much rowdier than usual. Fred and George had had a great success with their Canary Creams, and for the first couple of days of the holidays, people kept bursting into feather all over the place. Before long, however, all the Gryffindors had learned to treat food anybody else offered them with extreme caution, in case it had a Canary Cream concealed in the center, and George confided to me that he and Fred were now working on developing something else. I made a mental note never to accept so much as a crisp from Fred and George in future. You could never trust those two boys.

Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid's cabin, while the Durmstrang ship's portholes were glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost. The house-elves down in the kitchen were outdoing themselves with a series of rich, warming stews and savoury puddings, and only Fleur Delacour seemed to be able to find anything to complain about.

"It is too 'eavy, all zis 'Ogwarts food," we heard her saying grumpily as we left the Great Hall behind her one evening (Ron skulking behind Harry, keen not to be spotted by Fleur).

"I will not fit into my dress robes!"

"Oooh there's a tragedy," Hermione snapped as Fleur went out into the entrance hall. "She really thinks a lot of herself, that one, doesn't she?"

"Hermione - who are you going to the ball with?" said Ron.

He kept springing this question on her, hoping to startle her into a response by asking it when she least expected it. However, Hermione merely frowned and said, "I'm not telling you, you'll just make fun of me."

"You're joking, Weasley!" said Malfoy, behind us. "You're not telling me someone's asked that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?"

Harry and Ron both whipped around, I opened my mouth to say something nasty back, but Hermione said loudly, waving to somebody over Malfoys shoulder, "Hello, Professor Moody!"

Malfoy went pale and jumped backward, looking wildly around for Moody, but he was still up at the staff table, finishing his stew.

"Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?" said Hermione scathingly, and she, Harry, Ron and me went up the marble staircase laughing heartily.

"Hermione," said Ron, looking sideways at her, suddenly frowning, "your teeth…"

"What about them?" she said.

"Well, they're different… I've just noticed…"

"Of course they are - did you expect me to keep those fangs Malfoy gave me?"

"No, I mean, they're different to how they were before he put that hex on you… They're all… straight and - and normal-sized."

Now they notice! Sometimes boys are really dumb when they are around girls.

Hermione suddenly smiled very mischievously.

"Well… when I went up to Madam Pomfrey to get them shrunk, she held up a mirror and told me to stop her when they were back to how they normally were," she said. "And I just… let her carry on a bit." She smiled even more widely.

"Mum and Dad won't be too pleased. I've been trying to persuade them to let me shrink them for ages, but they wanted me to carry on with my braces. You know, they're dentists, they just don't think teeth and magic should - look! Pigwidgeons back!"

Ron's tiny owl was twittering madly on the top of the icicle-laden banisters, a scroll of parchment tied to his leg. People passing him were pointing and laughing, and a group of third-year girls paused and said, "Oh look at the weeny owl! Isn't he cute?"

"Stupid little feathery git!" Ron hissed, hurrying up the stairs and snatching up Pigwidgeon. "You bring letters to the addressee! You don't hang around showing off!"

Pigwidgeon hooted happily, his head protruding over Ron's fist. The third-year girls all looked very shocked.

"Clear off!" Ron snapped at them, waving the fist holding Pigwidgeon, who hooted more happily than ever as he soared through the air. "Here - take it, Harry," Ron added in an undertone as the third-year girls scuttled away looking scandalized. He pulled Sirius's reply off Pigwidgeons leg. Harry pocketed it, and we hurried back to Gryffindor Tower to read it.

Everyone in the common room was much too busy in letting off more holiday steam to observe what anyone else was up to. Ron, Harry, Hermione and me sat apart from everyone else by a dark window that was gradually filling up with snow, and Harry read out:

Dear Harry,

Congratulations on getting past the Horntail. Whoever put your name in that goblet shouldn't be feeling too happy right now!

I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitus Curse, as a dragon's eyes are its weakest point –

"That's what Krum did!" Hermione whispered –

But your way was better, I'm impressed.

Don't get complacent, though, Harry. You've only done one task; whoever put you in for the tournament's got plenty more opportunity if they're trying to hurt you. Keep your eyes open -particularly when the person we discussed is around and concentrate on keeping yourself out of trouble. Keep in touch, I still want to hear about anything unusual.

Sirius

Aurora, my beloved Star

Are you out of your bloody mind! I won't allow it! You are to break up with this boy now! Do you have any idea what you got yourself into? Diggory's boy! Do you want me to get caught! When I see you again, you will be in so much trouble. And you are way too young to date anyone! I thought Moony raised you better than this!

Dad

I looked at the letter in shock. I noticed the others staring at me. I looked up and saw their shocked faces. I smiled like it was nothing and shrugged.

"Dads, always so protecting, right? Nothing to worry about. I fix this," I said confident, but inside I was screaming.

"Let's focus on Harry, he's the one we have to watch out for."

It took some time but the others focused back on the part for Harry, but I saw that Harry kept looking at me. I smile reassuring and he looked back at the letter.

"He sounds exactly like Moody," said Harry quietly, tucking the letter away again inside his robes. "'Constant vigilance!' You'd think I walk around with my eyes shut, banging off the walls…"

"But he's right, Harry," said Hermione, "you have still got two tasks to do. You really ought to have a look at that egg, you know, and start working out what it means…"

"Hermione, he's got ages!" snapped Ron. "Want a game of chess, Harry?"

"Yeah, okay," said Harry. Then, spotting the look on Hermione's face, he said, "Come on, how'm I supposed to concentrate with all this noise going on? I won't even be able to hear the egg over this lot."

"Oh I suppose not," she sighed, and she sat down and together we watched their chess match, which culminated in an exciting checkmate of Ron's, involving a couple of recklessly brave pawns and a very violent bishop.

I woke up on Christmas Day, early, because Hermione was shaking me awake.

"Come on, Aurora, wake up. It's Christmas day and the ball is tonight and I'm freaking out!"

"How late is it?" I asked and I tried to put my blankets over my head. Which is hard if somebody is holding them.

"7h30," she replied.

"What!" I screamed. "Are you out of your bloody mind! Go back to sleep woman!" I threw a glare at Hermione and tried to turn over, trying to get back to sleep.

"But I can't! I'm too nervous!" Hermione said and pulled my blankets back again.

I sighed, "Fine, I'm up now! Let's go wake the boys and enjoy Christmas."

"Thank you, Aurora!" Hermione smiled.

"Yeah, yeah, now get out of my way so I get ready."

I got up and got ready. Hermione was next to me the whole time, bouncing around, biting her fingernails. I lost count of how many times I had to slap her hands to stop her from biting them ("You'll ruin your nails!").

By the time we got ready, it was 8h30. I was pissed and Hermione was scolding me for the last time I hit her. Apparently it was too hard.

We gathered our presents and made our way to the boys. When we got there, the boys were already opening their presents.

"Merry Christmas everybody!" Hermione and me said.

We got a chorus of merry Christmas back.

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked.

"I thought we could open our presents with you guys," I said.

"Sure, you can sit over here!" Harry said, smiling at me.

I went to sit next to Harry and began to open my presents. The first one was from Mrs. Weasley, she made me another sweater. Dark green with a wolf on it. I loved it! Hermione gave me a charm bracelet. Four charms already on it, a star, a book, a lightning bold and a Knight (chess piece). Ron gave me an assortment of sweets (just like everybody else, really creative!) Ian gave me a bracelet and Cedric got me a pair of earrings. Uncle Moony gave a hat, gloves and a scarf with a note that says to dress up warm because it was going to be a very cold winter. Dad gave me a book with all pranks in it that he and the others did when they were at Hogwarts. The twins gave me some stuff from Zonko and a note to use it wisely. My last present was from Harry. I slowly unwrapped it. It was a pair of guidditch gloves.

"So we could go and fly together and play some quidditch," Harry said.

I looked up and smiled, "I did promise that didn't I."

"Yes you did," he said back.

"It's a date then," I winked. Harry turned red and looked away. So cute! Wait, I'm not supposed to think that about Harry. Stop it Aurora!

When everyone was done with unpacking and the boys were ready, we all went down to breakfast together. We spent most of the morning in Gryffindor Tower, where everyone was enjoying their present, then returned to the Great Hall for a magnificent lunch, which included at least a hundred turkeys en Christmas puddings, and large piles od Cribbage's Wizarding Crackers.

We went out onto the grounds in the afternoon; the snow was untouched except for the deep channels made by the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students on their way up to the castle. Hermione chose to watch Harry, the Weasleys and mine snowball fight rather than join in.

At five o'clock I told Hermione that it was time to get ready. I know, it doesn't take three hours, but have you've seen her hair? It's going to take me ages to get it done.

"Hey guys, we're going to get ready, see you later!" I yelled to them.

"What, you need three hours?" said Ron, looking at us incredulously and paying for his lapse in concentration when a large snowball, thrown by George, hit him hard on the side of the head.

"Who're you going with?" he yelled after Hermione, but she just waved and we disappeared up the stone steps into the castle.

When we got to the dorms, I planted Hermione in front of the mirror.

"Let's see what we can do with your hair. Hmm, you know what, take a shower first and use my conditioner. It will make your hair easier to work with." I said to Hermione.

We both went into the shower and I made sure Hermione used my conditioner. After that I planted her back in front of the mirror and looked at her.

"Ok, let's see what we can do," I said and I started to work on her hair. It took some time but at last I was satisfied and let Hermione look _**(Hair style is on profile**_).

"Ooh, it looks amazing, thank you Aurora!" she exclaimed.

"It's nothing, now for your make-up," I said.

Just a bit of purple eyeliner above and under her eye, a light shade of eye shadow, a touch of blush and some lipgloss and she is ready. She looks like a total different person.

I helped her in her dress _**(see profile**_), put on her jewelry and she is ready.

"You look absolutely stunning Hermione, Kruml is one lucky guy!" I said.

"Thank you so much, Aurora! I don't know what I would've done without you!" Hermione said and she hugged me.

"Careful, you don't want to ruin your dress and make-up now," I said laughing.

Now it's my turn to get ready. I made quick work of my hair _**(see profile) **_my make-up and then Hermione helped me in my dress. I put on the necklace Harry gave me, the earrings from Cedric and the bracelet from Ian. _**(dress on profile). **_

"Oh my, you look beautiful too Aurora! All eyes will be on you tonight!" Hermione said.

"No, they will be on us," I said laughing. "Let's go, we need to find our guys," I said and with a last glimpse in the mirror we went. We passed several people on our way down and I swear I heard a whistle or two.

When we got to the entrance of the Great Hall, a lot of people were waiting and looking for their date. I went with Hermione outside to find Krum. We were lucky; he was coming up already with the rest of Durmstrang. Krum made his way to us and he bowed.

"Aurora," he greeted and he kissed my hand and then he turned to Hermione.

"Hermy-own," and he kissed her hand to while looking her in the eyes.

"Ok, Krum, listen to me! You make sure that Hermione has the best night of her live! You make sure she's having fun and if you hurt her in any way, I will do worse things to you! Now what that being said, I have to find my own date, so have fun and behave! I will be watching you!" I said and I turned around with a smile on my face. You had to see their faces! Hilarious. Hermione is never going to forgive me, but it was so worth it!

I began to look for Cedric when I got inside. I saw Ron looking around with a sulking Parvati at his side. Neville and Ginny _**(dress on profile)**_ standing together. Neville really looked nervous. Seamus and Lavender were standing with Dean and his date, I can't remember her name. I think it's someone from Ravenclaw, but a year older. Then I spotted Harry and Cho. Cho looked amazing in her robes, no lies about that. _**(dress on profile)**_Harry looked really good in his robes; they really brought out his eyes. His eyes found mine and he smiled. He looked up and down and I could see the approval in his eyes. He winked at me and mouthed _you look beautiful_. I smiled back and mouthed _thank you_. Before I could say anything else, two strong arms circled my waist and a kiss was planted on my cheek.

"Hey beautiful," someone whispered in my ear.

With a smile on my face I turned around and looked right into the grey eyes of Cedric. I give him a kiss on the lips.

"Hey," I said back.

Cedric held me at arm's length and made me twirl.

"You look amazing, Aurora. Absolutely breathe taking!"

"You don't look that bad yourself," I said smiling. Cedric gave me another kiss on the mouth.

"Here," and he gave ma one of the white roses.

"Thank you!" I said and I put the rose in my hair.

I saw Hermione walking in with Krum, smiling, with the others behind her. Then Professor McGonagall's voice called, "Champions over here, please!"

Cedric took my hand and led me towards Professor McGonagall. Professor McGonagall, who was wearing dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim other hat, told us to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside; we were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students had sat down.

Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies stationed themselves nearest the doors; Davies looked so stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur for a partner that he could hardly take his eyes off her. Cedric and me were behind them, then Krum and Hermione. Harry and Cho were the last ones close.

"Hi, Harry, Cho, Cedric," Hermione said.

"Hello Hermione," Cedric said.

Harry nodded at her smiling and Cha was gazing at Hermione in unflattering disbelief. Me, she gave me a smirk. What's that all about?

Cho wasn't the only one either; when the doors to the Great Hall opened, Krum's fan club from the library stalked past, throwing Hermione looks of deepest loathing. Pansy Parkinson gaped at her as she walked by with Malfoy, and even he didn't seem to be able to find an insult to throw at her. Ron, however, walked right past Hermione without looking at her.

Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall told the champions and their partners to get in line in pairs and to follow her. We did so, and everyone in the Great Hall applauded as we entered and started walking up toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting. The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

I caught sight of Ron and Parvati as I neared the top table. Ron was watching Hermione pass with narrowed eyes. Parvati was looking sulky.

Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions approached the top table, but Karkaroff wore an expression remarkably like Ron's as he watched Krum and Hermione draw nearer. Ludo Bagman, tonight in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students; and Madame Maxime, who had changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding us politely. But Mr. Crouch, I suddenly realized, was not there. The fifth seat at the table was occupied by Percy Weasley.

When we reached the table, I saw that Percy drew out the empty chair beside him and looked at Harry. Harry went to sit next to him and Cho didn't looked so happy. She was casting glances at Cedric and me throughout dinner.

I went to sit next to Hermione, to give her some support. There was no food as yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus were lying in front of each of us. I picked his mine uncertainly and looked around - there were no waiters. Dumbledore, however, looked carefully down at his own menu, then said very clearly to his plate, "Pork chops!"

And pork chops appeared. Getting the idea, the rest of the table placed their orders with their plates too. I glanced next to me at Hermione to see how she felt about this new and more complicated method of dining - surely it meant plenty of extra work for the house-elves? - but for once, Hermione didn't seem to be thinking about S.P.E.W. She was deep in talk with Viktor Krum and hardly seemed to notice what she was eating.

"Veil, ve have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking," he was telling Hermione. "Ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But ve have grounds larger even than these - though in vinter, ve have very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying them. But in summer ve are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains -"

"Now, now, Viktor!" said Karkaroff with a laugh that didn't reach his cold eyes, "don't go giving away anything else, now, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!"

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Igor, all this secrecy… one would almost think you didn't want visitors."

"Well, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, displaying his yellowing teeth to their fullest extent, "we are all protective of our private domains, are we not? Do we not jealously guard the halls of learning that have been entrusted to us? Are we not right to be proud that we alone know our school's secrets, and right to protect them?"

"Oh I would never dream of assuming I know all Hogwarts' secrets, Igor," said Dumbledore amicably. "Only this morning, for instance, I took a wrong turn on the way to the bathroom and found myself in a beautifully proportioned room I have never seen before, containing a really rather magnificent collection of chamber pots. When I went back to investigate more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished. But I must keep an eye out for it. Possibly it is only accessible at five-thirty in the morning. Or it may only appear at the quarter moon - or when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder."

Cedric snorted into his plate of goulash and I let out a smal laugh.

Meanwhile Fleur Delacour was criticizing the Hogwarts decorations to Roger Davies.

"Zis is nothing," she said dismissively, looking around at the sparkling walls of the Great Hall. "At ze Palace of Beauxbatons, we 'ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey do not melt, of course… zey are like 'uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place. And ze food is seemply superb. And we 'ave choirs of wood nymphs, 'oo serenade us as we eat. We 'ave none of zis ugly armor in ze 'alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbatons, 'e would be expelled like zat." She slapped her hand onto the table impatiently.

Roger Davies was watching her talk with a very dazed look on his face, and he kept missing his mouth with his fork. I had the impression that Davies was too busy staring at Fleur to take in a word she was saying.

"Absolutely right," he said quickly, slapping his own hand down on the table in imitation of Fleur. "Like that. Yeah."

I looked around the Hall. Hagrid was sitting at one of the other staff tables; he was back in his horrible hairy brown suit and gazing up at the top table. I saw him give a small wave, and looking around, saw Madame Maxime return it, her opals glittering in the candlelight.

Hermione was now teaching Krum to say her name properly; he kept calling her "Hermy-own."

"Her-my-oh-nee," she said slowly and clearly.

"Herm-own-ninny."

"Close enough," she said, catching my eye and grinning.

When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.

The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments.

"Care to join me for a dance, Aurora?" Cedric asked, holding out his hand.

"I would love to," I took his hand and Cedric let me to the dance floor. I looked around for Harry and saw that he was very nervous.

The Weird Sisters struck up a slow, mournful tune; Cedric took lead and I followed him. Thank god for uncle Moony and his dancing lessons when I was younger. Very soon, other people came onto the dance floor, so that the champions were no longer the center of attention. Neville and Ginny were dancing nearby - I could see Ginny wincing frequently as Neville trod on her feet – and Dumbledore was waltzing with Madame Maxime. He was so dwarfed by her that the top of his pointed hat barely tickled her chin; however, she moved very gracefully for a woman so large. Mad-Eye Moody was doing an extremely ungainly two-step with Professor Sinistra, who was nervously avoiding his wooden leg.

I heard the final note from the bagpipe and Cedric spun me around and dipped me. I smiled at him and he put me back up again. He bowed and I curtsied. The Weird Sisters stopped playing, applause filled the hall once more. I noticed Hermione standing next to me, with a big smile on her face.

The Weird Sisters struck up a new song, which was much faster. I grabbed Hermione's hand and started dancing with her, the boys joining in, all though a little more sophisticated. I didn't care, I was having way to much fun. We danced for a couple of songs before I noticed that neither Harry or Ron were on the dance floor. I looked around and found them sitting at a table. they were just sitting there, not even dancing. Both Cho and Parvati had a scowl on their face. O-oh, someone isn't having a great time.

"I'll be right back," I said to the others and made my way over to Harry and Ron. When I got near I saw Cho leaving.

"Hi guys, why aren't you dancing?" I asked them, my hands on my hips.

Ron just glared at me and Harry shrugged. Parvati sighed and placed her hand on one hand.

"Oh come on, you are dancing, even if I have to drag you on the dance floor!" I said.

I grabbed Parvati's hand and pulled her up.

"Help me, will you?" I asked her and she nodded, a smile already forming on her face.

Together we pulled Harry up and when we made a grab at Ron, he snarled at us.

"Leave me, will you!"

"What's the matter with you, Ron? You have an amazing date sitting next to you and you don't even want to dance with her! What's your problem?" I asked angry.

"That's my problem!" he said and he pointed at Hermione dancing with Kruml.

"What? Why is that a problem?" I asked.

"He's from Durmstrang!" spat Ron. "He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! She – She's -" Ron was obviously casting around for words strong enough to describe Hermione's crime, "fraternizing with the enemy, that's what she's doing!"

My mouth fell open.

"Don't be so stupid!" I said after a moment. "The enemy! Honestly - who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?"

Ron chose to ignore this. "I s'pose he asked her to come with him while you were both in the library?"

"Yes, he did," I said, "So what? He was very sweet about it! I don't see the problem."

"Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaroff's student, isn't he? He knows who she hangs around with… He's just trying to get closer to Harry - get inside information on him - or get near enough to jinx him -"

"you listen to me, Ronald Weasley! If you even come near Hermione tonight and ruin her night, I will hex you into next week! They won't even recognize you when I'm done with you! stay away from her!" I said ice cold. With one last glare at Ron, I turned around and pulled Harry and Parvati with me.

"Not one word to Hermione about this! Come on let's have some fun!" I said to the others.

We made our way to the others and we danced. I noticed that Cedric wasn't here anymore and I started to look around for him. I couldn't find him, so I asked Hermione where he was.

"He said he was going to the bathroom, but that was ages ago. I don't know where he is," she said and she was of dancing with Kruml again.

I started to walk away to find Cedric when a hand got my arm. I turned around and I looked right into those beautiful emerald eyes of Harry.

"Where are you going?" he asked me.

"To find Cedric, I can't find him," I said.

"Want me to help?"

"No, it's ok. Stay with Parvati, we need to make it up to her. We were the ones who settled het with Ron."

"You sure?"

"Positive!" I said and with a quick peck on the cheek, I took of the find my boyfriend.

I went out into to hallway and almost ran into Ian.

"Oh, hi Ian, have you seen Cedric?" I asked him.

"I think I saw him go outside just a few minutes ago," Ian said.

"Thanks!" I said and made way to go outside.

"Hey, Aurora, could you help me?" Ian shouted after me.

I turned and asked, "With what?"

Ian looked sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. "I kinda spilled my drink over my date and now she won't come out of the bathroom."

I couldn't help it, I laughed out loud. Womanizer Ian ruined his date's dress.

"It's not funny!" Ian said.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," I managed to get out between small laughs.

"Will you help?" he asked so sweetly.

"Sure. Tell her your sorry, that you will buy her a new dress or something and it doesn't hurt to get her some flowers. Oh and tell her that it doesn't matter what she looks like because she is the most beautiful girl you have ever seen. Think you can work with that?" I said.

"Yeah, that should help. Thank you Aurora, you are a life savior!" He gave me a quick hug and sprinted back to the girls bathroom.

I shook my head, when will boys ever learn how to handle us girls. Letting out another laugh, I started walking again. I went outside and I felled immediately how cold it was. Wrapping my arms around me, I looked around for Cedric. I followed one of the paths, hoping I would find Cedric quickly, so I could back inside to the warmth. I hear noise ahead of me and I hurried. When I went around the corner my heart stopped. Standing there, wrapped around her, kissing her so passionately, was Cedric, my boyfriend.

I couldn't think, I felt numb. My sight was becoming trouble and I realized I was crying. I feel like my whole world just felt apart. All I know is that I wanted to go away from here so I didn't have to see this image any more.

I turned around and ran straight into someone. I looked up and saw the face of Snape. He opened his mouth to say something but then he closed it again. He looked at my face and then behind me. I looked back at me and stepped aside so I could pass.

I stammered an thank you out and ran inside. I didn't notice where I was going, I didn't notice Ian standing there with his date, a grave look on his face. I didn't notice the confusing look on Harry's. All I wanted was to be alone.

I found a door that was open and I went inside. I slammed the door close and walked to around. Tears were streaming down my face. I couldn't hold it in anymore and I felled to the ground. I wrapped my arms around me as I shook. I heard the door open en close and then two strong arms around me.

"Aurora, what happened?" a voice asked. I recognize that voice out of thousands.

I turned a little and threw my arms around Harry. He held me close, letting me cry.

I don't know how long we sad there, him holding me while I was crying, but my tears stopped coming and I calmed down. Harry gently held me at arms lengths and asked me again what was wrong.

I looked right into his eyes. And I told him.

"I went searching for Cedric outside and I found him, and he was … was …" and then I realized who he was kissing. "Oh no, Harry, I'm so sorry." And I hugged him close again.

"Why are you sorry Aurora? And what was Cedric doing?" Harry asked me.

"He was kissing Cho," I managed to whisper out, not knowing if Harry heard.

His arms tightened around me. "He was doing what?" he hissed out.

I looked up and I saw his eyes burning. Oh he heard alright.

"I'm going to kill that bastard!" he said and he let go of me and tried to stand up, but I hold him down.

"No, don't! I'm fine, just let it go. He's not worth it! Please!" I begged.

"Aurora, look at you, you're definitely not fine. You were crying your eyes out, for crying out loud!"

"Please Harry, don't do anything stupid. I don't want you to get in trouble because of me."

Harry looked at me and his eyes were losing their fire.

"It's my fault, I should have seen it coming. I mean, who would want to date me? A daughter of murderer, I'm not smart or beautiful. I'm pathetic. I should have listened to dad," and I started crying again.

"No!" Harry roared, "it's not your fault! Why would you say that! You are an amazing person Aurora! A boy would be lucky to have you has his girlfriend. You are smart and you are more than beautiful!"

My mouth was hanging open by the end of his speech. I could feel confidence coming back.

"I would do anything for you, Aurora, even get in trouble so I would never see you cry again!"

"Harry, I …" I didn't get any further than that because Harry leaned in and his lips were on mine.

First I didn't react, my eyes wide open. But then I slowly started to kiss him back, my eyes fluttering shut. When his arms pulled me close again, my eyes shut open again and I pushed Harry away.

I looked at him with wide eyes and I got back on my feet. He was looking at me confused and hurt.

"I'm sorry Harry, I… this… I … , I'm sorry," I stammered out and I ran to the door, threw it open and ran away from that room. All the while thinking _what the hell am I doing! _ My head said keep running but my heart said to go back. I kept seeing his face in front of me, he looked so hurt.

I didn't notice where I was running and I collide with someone, again! Hands shot out to steady me.

"Watch out, beautiful, you could hurt yourself," I heard the voice above me say.

I freeze and I look up into the grey eyes of Cedric.

"Hey, have you've been crying? What's wrong, Aurora? Who made you cry? Tell me so I can hit him! Nobody makes my girl cry!"

I felled fire running through my veins when I heard him say my girl.

"Oh really, you gonna hit yourself then? I wonder where?" I spat at him.

"Wait, what? Why would I hit myself?" he asked flabbergast.

"You said you were going to hit the one who made me cry. Well you made me cry, Cedric Diggory! You cheating scumbag!" I screamed at him. I didn't notice that we were standing right outside the Great Hall and that the music was over and a few people were staring at us, including Ian, Parvati, Hermione, Kruml and Cho.

"Hey, calm down. What are you talking about?" he said and he made to grab my arm to drag ma away from our audience.

"Don't you dare touch me! I saw you two outside. I went looking for you and there you are, kissing her like no tomorrow!"

"What?" Cedric now really looked around, trying to get us away from there.

"I saw you kissing that whore, Cho Chang. Don't you try to deny it! Wasn't one girl enough for you? you had to have two? Or was this all a plan to get information out of me about my father? So your father would look good, catching mine? Well newsflash mister. Tricks like that won't work on me! I have no idea where he is and even if I know, I wouldn't be stupid enough to tell you!" I said in his face, my eyes burning with fire. He actually looks scared.

"No, that… you are… that's completely wrong …" he stuttered.

"you know what? I don't care anymore! In case you didn't notice, we are over! Stay the hell away from and keep your little bitch out of my way, because it won't be pretty when I meet her alone!" that being said, I turned around and walked up the stairs, passing Harry, not daring to look in his eyes.

"Aurora!" I heard Cedric shout after me and Ian saying, "leave her, you've done enough damage already!"

I hurried up the stairs, hearing two other set of pairs following me. I said the password, climbed inside, raced up the stairs to the girls bathroom and let me fall on my bed, ones again with tears streaming down my face.

"Oh, Aurora, are you ok?" I heard Hermione ask.

"What do you think Hermione? Ofcourse she's not ok. She just caught her boyfriend cheating on her!" Parvati said.

"Ex- boyfriend," I mumbled. And I sat up, drying my tears. "and I'm not crying over him anymore, like I said I don't care anymore."

"Then why are you crying?" Hermione asked.

"Because I hurt Harry and I have no idea how to fix it!"

"Hey it's not your fault that Diggory kissed Chang," Parvati said.

"I know, and I know Harry isn't heartbroken over that either. He found me and he comforted me and said all those nice things to me and then he… he…," I said.

"Yes?" Hermione asked.

"He kissed me," I said quitly.

Parvati and Hermione cheered.

"Finally!" they both say at the same time.

"What?" I asked.

"Don't tell me you didn't know that Harry has had feeling for you since last year?" Parvati looked at me. "Everybody knows that!"

"I didn't, I …" I stammered.

"Wait, you said you've been crying because you hurt him. What did you do?" Hermione asked.

"I started to kiss him back and then I realized I was still with Cedric and I didn't want to be the same like him, so I pushed him away and I stammered something and I ran off," I said.

"You did what!" Parvati screamed. "Ofcourse his hurt now! Yu didn't tell him why you ran off?"

"No, I just ran off. Now he's going to hate me forever and I will never have a chance with him," I cried out.

"You like him back right?" Hermione asked.

"Yes!" I said.

"Then what are you waiting for? You tell him!" Parvati said and she pulled me up and down the stairs.

"Hey Neville, is Harry up?" Parvati asked Neville, who was standing with Dean, Lavender and Seamus.

"No, haven't you heard? He's in the infirmary," Neville said.

"What? Why?" I asked.

"He went into a fight with Diggory. It was amazing, I didn't know Harry was that strong! Another bloke had to get him of Diggory but they both had to go to the infirmary. Snape was the only teacher there, he took 50 points of Diggory and a week detention and only ten points from Harry and one night detention!" Dean said.

I turned to Hermione and whispered, "I need to see him now, cover for me."

I turned back and rain up the stairs of the boys dormitories. There I found Ron sitting on his bed, sulking.

"Hey, Ron, where does Harry keep the cloak?"

"in his trunk, why?"

"He's in the infirmary and I need to go see him, aha," I said when I found the cloak.

"What?" Ron and he jumped up.

"Ask the others, I got to go," I yelled while running down again, throwing the cloak around me.

Hermione made sure everyone was distracted and I slipped out the common room and made my way to the infirmary.

**A/N: took me a while, but I finally decided that the chapter was good enough to be posted. **

**Sorry it took so long! As you know, the dresses are on my profile!**

**Review please, I like to know what you think!**


	20. Girlfriend? Trouble!

**A/N: I'm so sorry! **_**Hides behind the wall. **_**I know it took me a long time to update but here it is. The chapter you all have been waiting for! I hope you like it! I worked really long on it, to get it right!**

**Have fun reading!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

**Chapter 20: Girlfriend? Trouble!**

I was lucky, I didn't ran into anyone on my way to the infirmary. How could I be so stupid, forgetting the map. Stupid, stupid! Just when I reached the handle, the door slammed open, missing my nose with an inch. A very angry looking professor McGonagall brushed past me, muttering to herself. I guess she just came from Harry, giving him a lecture.

I pushed the door open and peaked around the door. Everything looks quit and no sign of Madame Pomfrey. I walked in and took off the cloak. Folding it up, I went to look for Harry. Two beds are occupied so I'm guessing he's in one of them. I walked to the first one and saw it was Cedric.

He didn't look so good. He has a black eye, several bruises and I think that his nose is broken. Why didn't they heal it? Is it their punishment? I hope that Harry in a better condition. Just when I was about the walk further, I noticed that the good eye of Cedric was looking at me. I didn't move.

"Hey," he said, "what are you doing here?"

"I came to see for myself if the rumors are true. Did Harry really beat you up?" I asked.

"Yeah, as you can see. He knows how to throw a punch," Cedric said.

"Well, I don't say I agree with Harry about beating you up, but I do feel you deserve it. You really hurt me and I hate it," I said.

"I know and I'm really sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen, I swear!"

"Yeah right and I'm supposed to believe you? Just like that?"

"Look, I'm really sorry for what has happened! I didn't plan it, it just happened. I really like you, or rather I liked you, but I realized that we never could be happy together. My father hates you, your father is a murderer, ..."

I choose not to comment on this, it was easier that way. He would probably think I'm crazy, so I let that one slide.

"I also noticed that you hang with Harry a lot and I can't compete against that."

"Wait what? Compete against what?" I asked.

"It's obvious that he likes you a lot, Aurora. And you like him to, it would be wrong of me to keep you guys away from each other."

I sat on his bed, facing him like I did after the first task, disbelieve and guild written on my face.

"How did you know?" I asked him.

"All the sign were there. Everytime you went to sit with me or hang out with me, he would have this longing and hurt look on his face. When you would go back to him, his face would light up, his eyes would brighten."

"You seem to have keep a close eye on him, you sure you're not gay?" I tried to joke, it was a way to stop thinking about Cedric was saying. How could I be so stupid and not notice all that!

"I think we know that!" He said with a smile on his face.

"What about me?" I asked him.

"I don't know, it were the little things. I can't really explain it but somehow I realized that Harry and you should be together. Everytime you would look at him, your eyes began to brighten to. After the first task I saw you two standing together, holding hands, ..."

"That didn't mean anything, I swear I didn't cheat on you!" I said quickly.

"Calm down! I know, ok. That was the moment I realized that you two belonged together."

"Why didn't you say anything? You could have talked to me instead of ... you know ...kissing her," I said.

"I know and I was going to after today. I didn't want to ruin your night and I was beating myself up. I went outside because I couldn't handle it anymore, the lying to you. I realized that my feelings for you were just friendly, not romantic anymore. Cho found me and asked what was wrong and I told her. She comforted and me and told me I should tell you. She was hugging me and suddenly we were kissing and I didn't know what to do. Then we heard a noise and we saw Snape standing next to us. I realized what I had done and I went inside to find you. Hermione told me you were looking for me and I went back and that's when you ran into me. You know how it went from there," he said.

"Did you really like me or was it just a way to get information about my father?" I asked. I had to know for sure.

"Believe me when I say that my feelings for you were real. In the beginning it felt wonderful and I liked spending time with you and everything. But then I realized that my feelings were changing and that I only saw you as friend. I thought it was because of the tournament, the stress and Ian tried to help. It didn't matter, and I really tried to get the feelings back but it was no use. And I swear, Aurora, never once did the thought about catching your father crossed my mind. My father tried but I wouldn't. It was clear you wouldn't talk about it so I didn't ask. I never meant to hurt you! It just sort of happened. I'm really sorry!"

"I believe you, you just really hurt me. It will take some time to forgive you, but I think I will someday. Now that I know all this and from what I understand, you not mind if I went out with Harry, I got to go to him now, explain some things to him," I said to Cedric. Standing up, I turned around.

"Hey, Aurora, I see that you are still wearing my rose," Cedric called out to me.

I reached for my hair and indeed, the rose was still there. I turned back to him and smiled.

"I like roses and I forgot it was still in there. I'll keep it," I said and I walked to the bed where hopefully Harry was lying in.

Coming closer I saw a mass of black hair and I knew I was at the right bed. I sat in the bed en brushed some hair away from his face. I looked him over and saw that he wasn't in such a bad shape. His eyes fluttered open.

"Hey," I said while giving him his glasses. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," he said and looked away from me. I felt hurt but I understand why he would do that.

"Harry, please look at me," I begged him. "Let me explain!"

"What is there to explain? I think I understand it perfectly." He said.

"No, I don't think you do and it's my fault. Please just look at me," I said.

He turned his eyes and our eyes locked. I forgot how beautiful his eyes are. I couldn't help myself staring into them. I leaned closer and so did he. Just before our lips met, he turned away again. I felt another pang of hurt. Were the others wrong, did he love me? I sighed, best to get it over with. Short pain, I guess.

"Look, I shouldn't just left you like that, not after what just happened that moment. It was really wrong of me."

"Yeah, it was. You could've at least told me why you didn't want it. Heck, you even shouldn't have kissed me back, Aurora, if you didn't want it!"

"But I did want it, I wanted to kiss you, really."

Harry looked to me with confused eyes, "But why did you ran away then?"

"Harry, at that moment I was still with Cedric. I didn't want to be like him. A cheater."

"But why didn't you just tell me that then?"

"I panicked, I didn't know what to do, I was so confused. At the moment I still had feelings for Cedric and for you and I didn't know what to do. I needed time to think and honestly, I never thought you would kiss me and I didn't know if you meant it," I said with one breath.

"Wait, feelings for me? Since when?"

"I don't know, sometime in third year, I think."

"And you never told me?"

"Hey, don't turn this on me, you never told me anything either!"

Harry sat up and looked me in the eye.

"So let me get this straight. You like me since third year,"

"Yes."

"I like you since third year."

"Apparently, yes."

"But we never acted on it because we thought that we didn't like each other. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, it does. That's about right yeah."

We looked at each other and started laughing. Still smiling at each other, Harry took one of my hands and looked me in the eye.

"Aurora, would you like to be my girlfriend?"

"I don't know, it's so soon after Cedric. What would the people think?" I said.

Harry's face went from looking happy to hurt and sad in a seconde. I laughed and I threw my arms around him.

"Of course I would like to be your girlfriend, silly!" I said and I kissed him right on the lips.

His arms went around me and pulled me closer. I had never experienced a kiss like this before. It felt so right. It felt like forever until we had to come up for air. He gave me a peck on the lips and hugged me close. Suddenly a thought came to mind and I started laughing.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Remember the letter dad send, the one where he thought we were together. I can't wait for his reaction when we tell him!"

Harry started laughing with me.

"Hey guys, I know you are happy, and I'm happy for you to, but I like to get some sleep so if you don't mind?" Cedric voices sounded out the dark.

"Oh, sorry Cedric, you're right, I should let both of you sleep," I said and I turned to Harry, "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Ok, I'll see you tomorrow!"

With one last kiss that lasted a few minutes, I went back to the tower. When I got to my room I saw that Hermione and Parvati were probably waiting for me and fell asleep doing so. Both were lying on my bed. I shook my head and went to Hermione's bed. I took of my dress, and let my hair down. I lay down the flower on my nightstand and lay myself down on Hermione's bed. With a smile on my face, I fell asleep.

I woke up the next morning because someone was shaking me. I opened my eyes slowly and looked right into the faces of Hermione and Parvati.

"What?" I asked tiredly.

"Well?" Parvati asked.

"Well, what?" I asked.

"Well, how did it go last night?" Hermione asked.

Sighing, I sat up, " Well, I went to the infirmary and I talked to Cedric and everything is cleared up. Now let me sleep!" I said and I turned around again.

"So, you want to sleep huh. So we best don't tell you that there is a boy waiting for you downstairs. You know with black hair and emerald eyes. We better let you sleep, I understand," Parvati said.

"What!" I yelled and I jumped out of bed and raced to the door.

"Sweety, you may want to put on some clothes before you go down there," Parvati said laughing.

Cursing, I turned around and got dressed in a new record. Looking at Hermione and Parvati, silently asking for conformation if everything was ok. They give me the ok sign and I raced to the door and down the stairs. There I stopped and looked at the person who leaning at the couch, both hands in his pockets. His hair falling for eyes. His eyes that were staring at me. His mouth turned to a smile. I couldn't help myself, I started smiling to and rushed to him. He catches me just in time and my lips were on his. I relaxed to his touch and everything around me faded. Just him and me.

We let go of each other and I suddenly become aware of all the noise. Looking around, I saw a lot of people cheering and clapping. I saw Hermione's beaming face and Ron giving me the dumps up. Blushing, I asked Harry to go somewhere else. He nodded and giving signals to the other two, we went on our way for breakfast. Holding hands we made our way to the table and we filled Hermione and Ron in on what happened between us. We got a lot of stares from the rest of the students but we knew this was going to happen. Cedric made it better by coming over and saying that he was happy for us. He still had his black eye.

Ron told us about the conversation he had overheard between Madame Maxime and Hagrid, but Hermione, Harry and I didn't seem to find the news that Hagrid was a half-giant nearly as shocking as Ron did.

"Well, I thought he must be," Hermione said, shrugging. "I knew he couldn't be pure giant because they're about twenty feet tall. But honestly, all this hysteria about giants. They can't all be horrible… It's the same sort of prejudice that people have toward werewolves… It's just bigotry, isn't it?"

Ron looked as though he would have liked to reply scathingly, but perhaps he didn't want another row, because he contented himself with shaking his head disbelievingly while Hermione wasn't looking.

It was time now to think of the homework we had neglected during the first week of the holidays. Everybody seemed to be feeling rather flat now that Christmas was over - everybody except Harry and I. We were enjoining every moment of the rest of the holiday. We didn't act any different than before, just more hugging and ofcourse more kissing. I could also see that Harry was getting nervous. The second task was coming closer and I know that he didn't figured out the clue yet. Even Cedric gave him clue how to use it, but Harry was still feeling less-than friendly toward Cedric, so I knew he wasn't going to listen to him.

Snow was still thick upon the grounds, and the greenhouse windows were covered in condensation so thick that we couldn't see out of them in Herbology. Nobody was looking forward to Care of Magical Creatures much in this weather, though as Ron said, the skrewts would probably warm us up nicely, either by chasing us, or blasting off so forcefully that Hagrid's cabin would catch fire.

When we arrived at Hagrid 's cabin, however, we found an elderly witch with closely cropped gray hair and a very prominent chin standing before his front door.

"Hurry up, now, the bell rang five minutes ago," she barked at us as we struggled toward her through the snow.

"Who're you?" said Ron, staring at her. "Wheres Hagrid?"

"My name is Professor Grubbly-Plank," she said briskly. "I am your temporary Care of Magical Creatures teacher."

"Where's Hagrid?" Harry repeated loudly.

"He is indisposed," said Professor Grubbly-Plank shortly.

Soft and unpleasant laughter reached my ears. I turned; Draco Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins were joining the class. All of them looked gleeful, and none of them looked surprised to see Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"This way, please," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, and she strode off around the paddock where the Beauxbatons horses were shivering. Harry, Ron,Hermione and I followed her, looking back over our shoulders at Hagrid's cabin. All the curtains were closed. Was Hagrid in there, alone and ill?

"What's wrong with Hagrid?" Harry said, hurrying to catch up with Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"Never you mind," she said as though she thought he was being nosy.

"I do mind, though," said Harry hotly. "What's up with him?"

Professor Grubbly-Plank acted as though she couldn't hear him. She led us past the paddock where the huge Beauxbatons horses were standing, huddled against the cold, and toward a tree on the edge of the forest, where a large and beautiful unicorn was tethered.

Many of the girls "ooooohed!" at the sight of the unicorn. "Oh it's so beautiful!" whispered Lavender Brown. "How did she get it? They're supposed to be really hard to catch!"

"Boys keep back!" barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, throwing out an arm and catching Harry hard in the chest. "They prefer the woman's touch, unicorns. Girls to the front, and approach with care, come on, easy does it…"

She and the girls walked slowly forward toward the unicorn, leaving the boys standing near the paddock fence, watching. I choose to stay with Harry. I never really liked unicorns, don't know why. Maybe because they get treated good, while uncle Moony wasn't. The moment Professor Grubbly-Plank was out of earshot. Harry turned to Ron and me.

"What d'you reckons wrong with him? You don't think a skrewt -?"

"Oh he hasn't been attacked, Potter, if that's what you're thinking," said Malfoy softly. "No, he's just too ashamed to show his big, ugly face."

"What d'you mean?" said Harry sharply.

Malfoy put his hand inside the pocket of his robes and pulled out a folded page of newsprint.

"There you go," he said. "Hate to break it to you. Potter…"

He smirked as Harry snatched the page, unfolded it, and read it, with Ron, Seamus, Dean, Neville and me looking over his shoulder. It was an article topped with a picture of Hagrid looking extremely shifty.

DUMBLEDORE'S GIANT MISTAKE

Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial staff appointments, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. In September of this year, he hired Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, the notoriously jinx-happy ex-Auror, to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, a decision that caused many raised eyebrows at the Ministry of Magic, given Moody's well-known habit of attacking anybody who makes a sudden movement in his presence. Mad-Eye Moody, however, looks responsible and kindly when set beside the part-human Dumbledore employs to teach Care of Magical Creatures.

Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of gamekeeper at the school ever since a job secured for him by Dumbledore. Last year, however, Hagrid used his mysterious influence over the headmaster to secure the additional post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better-qualified candidates.

An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his newfound authority to terrify the students in his care with a succession of horrific creatures. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series of lessons that many admit to being "very frightening." 'I was attacked by a hippogriff, and my friend Vincent Crabbe got a bad bite off a flobberworm," says Draco Malfoy, a fourth-year student. "We all hate Hagrid, but we're just too scared to say anything."

Hagrid has no intention of ceasing his campaign of intimidation, however. In conversation with a Daily Prophet reporter last month, he admitted breeding creatures he has dubbed "Blast-Ended Skrewts," highly dangerous crosses between manti-cores and fire-crabs. The creation of new breeds of magical creature is, of course, an activity usually closely observed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hagrid, however, considers himself to be above such petty restrictions.

"I was just having some fun," he says, before hastily changing the subject. As if this were not enough, the Daily Prophet has now unearthed evidence that Hagrid is not - as he has always pretended - a pure-blood wizard. He is not, in fact, even pure human. His mother, we can exclusively reveal, is none other than the giantess Fridwulfa, whose whereabouts are currently unknown. Bloodthirsty and brutal, the giants brought themselves to the point of extinction by warring amongst themselves during the last century. The handful that remained joined the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and were responsible for some of the worst mass Muggle killings of his reign of terror.

While many of the giants who served He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were killed by Aurors working against the Dark Side, Fridwulfa was not among them. It is possible she escaped to one of the giant communities still existing in foreign mountain ranges. If his antics during Care of Magical Creatures lessons are any guide, however, Fridwulfa's son appears to have inherited her brutal nature.

In a bizarre twist, Hagrid is reputed to have developed a close friendship with the boy who brought around You-Know-Who's fall from power - thereby driving Hagrid's own mother, like the rest of You-Know-Who's supporters, into hiding. Perhaps Harry Potter is unaware of the unpleasant truth about his large friend – but Albus Dumbledore surely has a duty to ensure that Harry Potter, along with his fellow students, is warned about the dangers of associating with part-giants.

I finished reading and looked up at Ron and Harry, whose mouths were hanging open.

"How did she find out?" I whispered.

But that wasn't what was bothering Harry.

"What d'you mean, 'we all hate Hagrid'?"

Harry spat at Malfoy. "What's this rubbish about him" - he pointed at Crabbe - "getting a bad bite off a flobberworm? They haven't even got teeth!"

Crabbe was sniggering, apparently very pleased with himself. What an idoit!

"Well, I think this should put an end to the oaf's teaching career," said Malfoy, his eyes glinting. "Half-giant… and there was me thinking he'd just swallowed a bottle of Skele-Gro when he was young… None of the mummies and daddies are going to like this at all… They'll be worried he'll eat their kids, ha, ha…"

"You-"

"Are you paying attention over there?"

Professor Grubbly-Planks voice carried over to us; the girls were all clustered around the unicorn now, stroking it. Harry was so angry that the Daily Prophet article shook in his hands as he turned to stare unseeingly at the unicorn, whose many magical properties Professor Grubbly-Plank was now enumerating in a loud voice, so that the boys could hear too. I grabbed his hand and started to rub his back.

"I hope she stays, that woman!" said Parvati Patil when the lesson had ended and we were all heading back to the castle for lunch. "That's more what I thought Care of Magical Creatures would be like… proper creatures like unicorns, not monsters…"

"What about Hagrid?" Harry said angrily as we went up the steps.

"What about him?" said Parvati. "He can still be gamekeeper, can't he?"

"That was a really good lesson," said Hermione as we entered the Great Hall. "I didn't know half the things Professor Grubbly-Plank told us about uni -"

"Look at this!" Harry snarled, and he shoved the Daily Prophet article under Hermione's nose.

Hermione's mouth fell open as she read. Her reaction was exactly the same as mine.

"How did that horrible Skeeter woman find out? You don't think Hagrid told her?"

"No," said Harry, leading the way over to the Gryffindor table and throwing himself into a chair, furious. "He never even told us, did he? I reckon she was so mad he wouldn't give her loads of horrible stuff about me, she went ferreting around to get him back."

"Maybe she heard him telling Madame Maxime at the ball," I said quietly.

"I would have seen her in the garden!" said Ron. "Anyway, she's not supposed to come into school anymore, Hagrid said Dumbledore banned her…"

"Maybe she's got an Invisibility Cloak," said Harry, ladling chicken casserole onto his plate and splashing it everywhere in his anger. "Sort of thing she'd do, isn't it, hide in bushes listening to people."

"Like Ron did, you mean," said Hermione.

"I wasn't trying to hear him!" said Ron indignantly. "Ididn't have any choice! The stupid prat, talking about his giantess mother where anyone could have heard him!"

"We've got to go and see him," said Harry. "This evening, after Divination. Tell him we want him back… you do want him back?" he shot at Hermione.

"I - well, I'm not going to pretend it didn't make a nice change, having a proper Care of Magical Creatures lesson for once - but I do want Hagrid back, of course I do!" Hermione added hastily, quailing under Harry's furious stare.

So that evening after dinner, the four of us left the castle once more and went down through the frozen grounds to Hagrid's cabin. We knocked, and Fang's booming barks answered.

"Hagrid, it's us!" Harry shouted, pounding on the door. "Open up!"

Hagrid didn't answer. We could hear Fang scratching at the door, whining, but it didn't open. We hammered on it for ten more minutes; Ron even went and banged on one of the windows, but there was no response.

"What's he avoiding us for?" Hermione said when we had finally given up and were walking back to the school. "He surely doesn't think we'd care about him being half-giant?"

"I don't know, Hermione, it does seem that way." I said.

It did seemed that Hagrid did care. We didn't see a sign of him all week. He didn't appear at the staff table at mealtimes, we didn't see him going about his gamekeeper duties on the grounds, and Professor Grubbly-Plank continued to take the Care of Magical Creatures classes. Malfoy was gloating at every possible opportunity.

"Missing your half-breed pal?" he kept whispering to Harry whenever there was a teacher around, so that he was safe from Harry's retaliation. "Missing the elephantman?"

There was a Hogsmeade visit halfway through January. Hermione was very surprised that Harry was going to go.

"I just thought you'd want to take advantage of the common room being quiet," she said. "Really get to work on that egg."

"Oh I - I reckon I've got a pretty good idea what it's about now," Harry said.

"Have you really?" said Hermione, looking impressed. "Well done!"

I knew he was lying, but I didn't say anything. I figured he deserved a break from everything and when we were back I was going to make him start on that egg. Helping him in every way I can.

We left the castle together on Saturday and set off through the cold, wet grounds toward the gates. Harry holding me close so I could stay warm. I love it when he does that. As we pass the Durmstrang ship moored in the lake, we saw Viktor Krum emerge onto the deck, dressed in nothing but swimming trunks.

He was very skinny indeed, but apparently a lot tougher than he looked, because he climbed up onto the side of the ship, stretched out his arms, and dived, right into the lake.

"He's mad!" said Harry, staring at Krums dark head as it bobbed out into the middle of the lake. "It must be freezing, it's January!"

"It's a lot colder where he comes from," said Hermione. "I suppose it feels quite warm to him."

"Yeah, but there's still the giant squid," said Ron. He didn't sound anxious – if anything, he sounded hopeful. Hermione noticed his tone of voice and frowned.

"He's really nice, you know," she said. "He's not at all like you'd think, coming from Durmstrang. He likes it much better here, he told me."

Ron said nothing. He hadn't mentioned Viktor Krum since the ball, I guess he listened to my advice.

We kept our eyes skinned for a sign of Hagrid all the way down the slushy High Street, and suggested a visit to the Three Broomsticks once we had ascertained that Hagrid was not in any of the shops.

The pub was as crowded as ever, but one quick look around at all the tables told us that Hagrid wasn't there. Heart sinking, we went up to the bar with Ron and Hermione, ordered four butterbeers from Madam Rosmerta. We went to sit at a table. Me beside Harry, holding his hand, trying to cheer him up.

"Doesn't he ever go into the office?" Hermione whispered suddenly. "Look!"

She pointed into the mirror behind the bar, and I saw Ludo Bagman reflected there, sitting in a shadowy corner with a bunch of goblins. Bagman was talking very fast in a low voice to the goblins, all of whom had their arms crossed and were looking rather menacing.

It was indeed odd. I thought, that Bagman was here at the Three Broomsticks on a weekend when there was no Triwizard event, and therefore no judging to be done. I watched Bagman in the mirror. He was looking strained again, quite as strained as he had that night in the forest before the Dark Mark had appeared. But just then Bagman glanced over at the bar, saw Harry, and stood up.

"In a moment, in a moment!" I heard him say brusquely to the goblins, and Bagman hurried through the pub toward us, his boyish grin back in place.

"Harry!" he said. "How are you? Been hoping to run into you! Everything going all right?"

"Fine, thanks," said Harry.

"Wonder if I could have a quick, private word, Harry?" said Bagman eagerly.

"You couldn't give us a moment, you three, could you?"

"Er - okay," said Ron, and we went off to find a table.

"I'm wondering what they are talking about," I said. I tried to read the lips, but I couldn't see it very clear. All I could see was that Harry wasn't really happy with to conversation and that Bagman was looking nervous. Suddenly the twins joined their table and then Bagman left. Harry stood up and came to us.

"What did he want?" Ron said, the moment Harry had sat down.

"He offered to help me with the golden egg," said Harry.

"He shouldn't be doing that!" said Hermione, looking very shocked. "He's one of the judges! And anyway, you've already worked it out - haven't you?"

"Er… nearly," said Harry. oh Harry.

"Well, I don't think Dumbledore would like it if he knew Bagman was trying to persuade you to cheat!" said Hermione, still looking deeply disapproving. "I hope he's trying to help Cedric as much!"

"He's not, I asked," said Harry.

"Who cares if Diggorys getting help?" said Ron.

"Ron, this competition is dangerous. Don't say things like that!" I said with a glare. Harry started to rub my back to het me calm. He kissed my temple and whispered to ignore Ron.

"Those goblins didn't look very friendly," said Hermione, sipping her butterbeer. "What were they doing here?"

"Looking for Crouch, according to Bagman," said Harry. "He's still ill. Hasn't been into work."

"Maybe Percys poisoning him," said Ron. "Probably thinks if Crouch snuffs it he'll be made head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

Hermione gave Ron a don't-joke-about-things-like-that look, and said, "Funny, goblins looking for Mr. Crouch… They'd normally deal with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Crouch can speak loads of different languages, though," I said. "Maybe they need an interpreter."

"Worrying about poor 'ickle goblins, now, are you?" Ron asked Hermione. "Thinking of starting up S.P.U.G. or something? Society for the Protection of Ugly Goblins?"

"Ha, ha, ha," said Hermione sarcastically. "Goblins don't need protection. Haven't you been listening to what Professor Binns has been telling us about goblin rebellions?"

"No," said Harry and Ron together.

"Well, they're quite capable of dealing with wizards," I said, taking a sip of butterbeer. "They're very clever. They're not like house-elves, who never stick up for themselves."

"Uh-oh," said Ron, staring at the door.

Rita Skeeter had just entered. She was wearing banana-yellow robes today; her long nails were painted shocking pink, and she was accompanied by her paunchy photographer. She bought drinks, and she and the photographer made their way through the crowds to a table nearby. Harry, Ron, Hermione and me glaring at her as she approached. She was talking fast and looking very satisfied about something.

"… didn't seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo? Now, why would that be, do you think? And what's he doing with a pack of goblins in town anyway? Showing them the sights… what nonsense… he was always a bad liar. Reckon something's up? Think we should do a bit of digging? 'Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman… ' Snappy start to a sentence, Bozo - we just need to find a story to fit it -"

"Trying to ruin someone else's life?" said Harry loudly.

A few people looked around. Rita Skeeter's eyes widened behind her jewelled spectacles as she saw who had spoken.

"Harry!" she said, beaming. "How lovely! Why don't you come and join-?"

"I wouldn't come near you with a ten-foot broomstick," said Harry furiously. "What did you do that to Hagrid for, eh?"

"Harry, stop it!" I said and I put my hand on his shoulder to keep him down.

Rita Skeeter raised her heavily pencilled eyebrows.

"Our readers have a right to the truth, Harry. I am merely doing my-"

"Who cares if he's half-giant?" Harry shouted. "There's nothing wrong with him!"

"Harry, stop yelling. It's not worth it!" I said.

The whole pub had gone very quiet. Madam Rosmerta was staring over from behind the bar, apparently oblivious to the fact that the flagon she was filling with mead was overflowing.

Rita Skeeters smile flickered very slightly, but she hitched it back almost at once; she snapped open her crocodile-skin handbag, pulled out her Quick-Quotes Quill, and said, "How about giving me an interview about the Hagrid you know. Harry? The man behind the muscles? Your unlikely friendship and the reasons behind it. Would you call him a father substitute? And what about this new romance I see. Stealing the girl from your fellow champion?"

Hermione stood up very abruptly, her butterbeer clutched in her hand as though it were a grenade.

"You horrible woman," she said, through gritted teeth, "you don't care, do you, anything for a story, and anyone will do, won't they? Even Ludo Bagman -"

"Sit down, you silly little girl, and don't talk about things you don't understand," said Rita Skeeter coldly, her eyes hardening as they fell on Hermione. "I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl… not that it needs it -" she added, eyeing Hermione's bushy hair.

"Let's go," said Hermione, "c'mon. Harry – Ron – Aurora…"

We left; many people were staring at us as we went. I glanced back as we reached the door. Rita Skeeter's Quick-Quotes Quill was out; it was zooming backward and forward over a piece of parchment on the table.

"She'll be after you next, Hermione," said Ron in a low and worried voice as wewalked quickly back up the street.

"Let her try!" said Hermione defiantly; she was shaking with rage. "I'll show her! Silly little girl, am I? Oh, I'll get her back for this. First Harry, then Hagrid…"

"You don't want to go upsetting Rita Skeeter," said Ron nervously. "I'm serious, Hermione, she'll dig up something on you -"

"My parents don't read the Daily Prophet. She can't scare me into hiding!" said Hermione, now striding along so fast that it was all we could do to keep up with her. The last time I had seen Hermione in a rage like this, she had hit Draco Malfoy around the face. "And Hagrid isn't hiding anymore! He should never have let that excuse for a human being upset him! Come on!"

Breaking into a run, she led us all the way back up the road, through the gates flanked by winged boars, and up through the grounds to Hagrid's cabin. The curtains were still drawn, and we could hear Fang barking as we approached.

"Hagrid!" Hermione shouted, pounding on his front door. "Hagrid, that's enough! We know you're in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can't let that foul Skeeter woman do this to you! Hagrid, get out here, you're just being -"

The door opened. Hermione said, "About t-!" and then stopped, very suddenly, because she had found herself face-to-face, not with Hagrid, but with Albus Dumbledore.

"Good afternoon," he said pleasantly, smiling down at us.

"We-er-we wanted to see Hagrid," said Hermione in a rather small voice.

"Yes, I surmised as much," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "Why don't you come in?"

"Oh… um… okay," said Hermione.

We went into the cabin; Fang launched himself upon Harry the moment he entered, barking madly and trying to lick his ears. Harry fended off Fang and I looked around.

Hagrid was sitting at his table, where there were two large mugs of tea. He looked a real mess. His face was blotchy, his eyes swollen, and he had gone to the other extreme where his hair was concerned; far from trying to make it behave, it now looked like a wig of tangled wire.

"Hi, Hagrid," said Harry.

Hagrid looked up.

"'Lo," he said in a very hoarse voice.

"More tea, I think," said Dumbledore, closing the door behind us, drawing out his wand, and twiddling it; a revolving tea tray appeared in midair along with a plate of cakes. Dumbledore magicked the tray onto the table, and everybody sat down. There was a slight pause, and then Dumbledore said, "Did you by any chance hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid?"

Hermione went slightly pink, but Dumbledore smiled at her and continued, "Hermione, Harry, Ron and Aurora still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door."

"Of course we still want to know you!" Harry said, staring at Hagrid. "You don't think anything that Skeeter cow - sorry, Professor," he added quickly, looking at Dumbledore.

"I have gone temporarily deaf and haven't any idea what you said, Harry," said Dumbledore, twiddling his thumbs and staring at the ceiling.

"Er-right," said Harry sheepishly. "I just meant - Hagrid, how could you think we'd care what that-woman-wrote about you?"

Two fat tears leaked out of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes and fell slowly into his tangled beard.

"Living proof of what I've been telling you, Hagrid," said Dumbledore, still looking carefully up at the ceiling. "I have shown you the letters from the countless parents who remember you from their own days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I sacked you, they would have something to say about it -"

"Not all of 'em," said Hagrid hoarsely. "Not all of 'em wan me ter stay."

"Really, Hagrid, if you are holding out for universal popularity, I'm afraid you will be in this cabin for a very long time," said Dumbledore, now peering sternly over his half-moon spectacles. "Not a week has passed since I became headmaster of this school when I haven't had at least one owl complaining about the way I run it. But what should I do? Barricade myself in my study and refuse to talk to anybody?"

"Yeh - yeh're not half-giant!" said Hagrid croakily.

"Hagrid, look what I've got for relatives!" Harry said furiously. "Look at the Dursleys!"

"Look at me, I have a murderer for a father and a werewolf for an uncle. I'm not hiding," I said.

"Excellent points," said Professor Dumbledore. "My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I'm not entirely sure he can read, so that may not have been bravery…"

"Come back and teach, Hagrid," said Hermione quietly, "please come back, we really miss you."

Hagrid gulped. More tears leaked out down his cheeks and into his tangled beard. Dumbledore stood up. "I refuse to accept your resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on Monday," he said. "You will join me for breakfast at eight-thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good afternoon to you all."

Dumbledore left the cabin, pausing only to scratch Fangs ears. When the door had shut behind him, Hagrid began to sob into his dustbin-lid-sized hands. Hermione kept patting his arm, and at last, Hagrid looked up, his eyes very red indeed, and said, "Great man, Dumbledore… great man…"

"Yeah, he is," said Ron. "Can I have one of these cakes, Hagrid?"

"Help yerself," said Hagrid, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. "Ar, he's righ', o' course - yeh're all righ'… I bin stupid… my ol' dad woulda bin ashamed o' the way I've bin behavin'…"

More tears leaked out, but he wiped them away more forcefully, and said, "Never shown you a picture of my old dad, have I? Here…"

Hagrid got up, went over to his dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a picture of a short wizard with Hagrid's crinkled black eyes, beaming as he sat on top of Hagrid's shoulder. Hagrid was a good seven or eight feet tall, judging by the apple tree beside him, but his face was beardless, young, round, and smooth - he looked hardly older than eleven.

"Tha was taken jus' after I got inter Hogwarts," Hagrid croaked. "Dad was dead chuffed… thought I migh' not be a wizard, see, 'cos me mum… well, anyway. 'Course, I never was great shakes at magic, really… but at least he never saw me expelled. Died, see, in me second year… Dumbledore was the one who stuck up for me after Dad went. Got me the gamekeeper job… trusts people, he does. Gives 'em second chances… tha's what sets him apar' from other heads, see. He'll accept anyone at Hogwarts, s'long as they've got the talent. Knows people can turn out okay even if their families weren'… well… all tha' respectable. But some don understand that. There's some who'd always hold it against yeh… there's some who'd even pretend they just had big bones rather than stand up an' say - I am what I am, an' I'm not ashamed. 'Never be ashamed,' my ol' dad used ter say, 'there's some who'll hold it against you, but they're not worth botherin' with.' An' he was right. I've bin an idiot. I'm not botherin' with her no more, I promise yeh that. Big bones… I'll give her big bones."

We looked at one another nervously; I would rather have taken fifty Blast-Ended Skrewts for a walk than admit to Hagrid that Ron had overheard him talking to Madame Maxime, but Hagrid was still talking, apparently unaware that he had said anything odd.

"Yeh know wha, Harry?" he said, looking up from the photograph of his father, his eyes very bright, "when I firs' met you, you reminded me o' me a bit. Mum an' Dad gone, an' you was feelin' like yeh wouldn' fit in at Hogwarts, remember? Not sure yeh were really up to it… an' now look at yeh, Harry! School champion!"

He looked at Harry for a moment and then said, very seriously, "Yeh know what I'd love Harry? I'd love yeh ter win, I really would. It'd show 'em all… yeh don' have ter be pure-blood ter do it. Yeh don have ter be ashamed of what yeh are. It'd show 'em Dumbledore's the one who's got it righ', lettin' anyone in as long as they can do magic. How you doin' with that egg, Harry?"

"Great," said Harry. "Really great."

Hagrid's miserable face broke into a wide, watery smile.

"Tha's my boy… you show 'em, Harry, you show 'em. Beat 'em all."

I know lying to Hagrid was eating at Harry so I knew that he was going to word on the clue and shelve his pride.

"I don't know what Cedric said to you, but I'm going to help you and you don't have a say in it!" I said to Harry.

Harry looked at me closely and nodded. "all right. I'll warn you when I'm ready!"

**A/N: wauw, finally done and ready. I hope you enjoyed it ;) please let me know how it was. I really want to know if I did a good job on this.**


	21. The Egg and the Eye

**A/N: I'm so sorry it took so long to update, blame my school! I had to write 5 papers already and I still have to do 2 more. **

**I hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't Harry Potter**

**Chapter 21: The Egg and the Eye**

We had no idea how long a bath we would need to work out the secret of the golden egg, so we decided to do it at night, when we would be able to take as much time as we wanted. Reluctant though Harry was to accept more favors from Cedric, we also decided to use the prefects' bathroom; far fewer people were allowed in there, so it was much less likely that we would be disturbed.

We planned our excursion carefully, because Harry had been caught out of bed and out-of-bounds by Filch the caretaker in the middle of the night once before, and had no desire to repeat the experience. The Invisibility Cloak would, of course, be essential, and as an added precaution, I thought we would take the Marauders Map, which, next to the cloak, was the most useful aid to rule-breaking Harry and I owned. Seeing as it was a part of me to, Harry and I decided that I could have the map. When he needed it, he could and I could use the cloak.

The map showed the whole of Hogwarts, including its many shortcuts and secret passageways and, most important of all, it revealed the people inside the castle as minuscule, labeled dots, moving around the corridors, so that we would be forewarned if somebody was approaching the bathroom.

On Thursday night, Harry sneaked up to bed, put on the cloak, crept back downstairs, I crept under it (no idea how anybody didn't see that, but Hermione was causing a distraction. She would tell then tell the others that I had gone to bed already). Just as we had done on the night when Hagrid had shown us the dragons, waited for the portrait hole to open. This time it was Ron who waited outside to give the Fat Lady the password ("banana fritters"), "Good luck," Ron muttered, climbing into the room as we crept out past him.

It was a little small under the cloak tonight, because Harry had the heavy egg in his arms and I held the map in front of our noses. However, the moonlit corridors were empty and silent, and by checking the map at strategic intervals, we were able to ensure that we wouldn't run into anyone we wanted to avoid. When we reached the statue of Boris the Bewildered, a lost-looking wizard with his gloves on the wrong hands, we located the right door, leaned close to it, and Harry muttered the password, "Pine fresh," just as Cedric had told him.

The door creaked open. Harry and me slipped inside, bolted the door behind us, and pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, looking around.

My immediate reaction was that it would be worth becoming a prefect just to be able to use this bathroom. It was softly lit by a splendid candle-filled chandelier, and everything was made of white marble, including what looked like an empty, rectangular swimming pool sunk into the middle of the floor. About a hundred golden taps stood all around the pools edges, each with a differently colored Jewel set into its handle. There was also a diving board. Long white linen curtains hung at the windows; a large pile of fluffy white towels sat in a corner, and there was a single golden-framed painting on the wall. It featured a blonde mermaid who was fast asleep on a rock, her long hair over her face. It fluttered every time she snored.

Harry and I moved forward, looking around, our footsteps echoing off the walls. Magnificent though the bathroom was, now I was here I couldn't quite suppress the feeling that Cedric might have been having us on. How on earth was this supposed to help solve the mystery of the egg? But Cedric isn't one of those guys that would fool people just for fun. He also didn't look like a kind of guy who would cheat on his girlfriend, but he did. It was so confusing. Nevertheless, we put two of the Huffy towels, the cloak, the map, and the egg at the side of the swimming-pool-sized bath, then Harry knelt down and turned on a few of the taps.

I could tell at once that they carried different sorts of bubble bath mixed with the water, though it wasn't bubble bath as Harry had ever experienced it, seeing he grew up with muggles. One tap gushed pink and blue bubbles the size of footballs; another poured ice-white foam so thick that I thought it would have supported Harry's weight if he'd cared to test it; a third sent heavily perfumed purple clouds hovering over the surface of the water. Harry amused himself for awhile turning the taps on and off, particularly enjoying the effect of one whose jet bounced off the surface of the water in large arcs. Then, when the deep pool was full of hot water, foam, and bubbles, which took a very short time considering its size, Harry turned off all the taps.

"Ok, let's get into the water and see what Cedric was talking about." I said.

"Euh, Aurora, how are we going into the water?" Harry asked nervously, getting red in the face.

"Oh, well I've got my bathing suit on, so I will be covered," I said blushing, "Did you have yours?"

"yeah, I got one, but euh…, I never undressed in front of a girl before, so euh…," Harry said.

"Right, same problem here, hah, eum. Why don't you get undressed first and go into the water and then I do the same and we stand with our backs towards each other?" I said.

"Ok, sounds like a plan," Harry smiled, still nervous, but seeing I was as well, I couldn't make fun of him.

We turned around and I quickly pulled of my dressing gown, pajamas and slippers. I waited until I heard the water and then I turned around. Harry was facing away from, gathering foam around him. I walked to the edge and slowly let myself slid into the water.

It was so deep that my feet barely touched the bottom. Harry did a couple of lengths before swimming back to me. He stopped next to me and our arms were touching. It suddenly became very hot in here and it had nothing to do with the water. I looked at Harry and I saw him looking at me. His emerald eyes were looking at me and I had the urge to kiss him, so I did. I leaned in and he met me in the middle.

The kiss started slow and a little unsure, but then Harry turned his body towards me and put his hands around me middle. My hands went around his neck. His tongue brushed my lower lip, looking for entrance. I parted my lips and his tongue brushed mine. I moaned, this felt so good. It was slow and neither was getting the overhand. Harry pulled me closer to him and I didn't mind at all. One hand went to the base of his neck, where I could play with his hair. The other one went to the front and started to caress his chest. I love quidditch, it did wonders to a boy's body. His hands started to caress my back. His hand went lower and lower and …

He pushed me away and tried to catch his breath. He put a lot of distance between us and he gathered some more foam around him.

"Harry? are you ok?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just a little, eum…" he said without looking at me. He was red in the face.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked.

"No!" he said quickly, "You did nothing wrong, in fact, you did everything right, I just got euh…."

And I understood, "Oh, I see, euh, well I don't see, but I understand. When you're good again, euh, let me know, ok?" I asked, blushing.

This must be so embarrassing for him, but I kinda liked that I could to that to him. I have to admit that I was feeling things I never felt before. I guess for a boy it was a little harder to hide it. I turned away from him and I saw the egg. Almost forgot about it, the real reason we were here. I pushed myself a little out of the water and I heard a whimper behind me. I looked over my shoulder and I saw Harry turning around, shaking his head.

"You ok?" I asked him.

"Yeah, everything's just fine, just get the egg and get back into the water." He said with a strained voice.

"Ok," I said and I got the egg and let myself back into the water. I turned to Harry and I saw that he was coming back to me.

"Problem solved?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm good. Let's get this over with." He said.

We both looked at the egg, trying to figure out what to do with it. No stroke of brilliance came, no sudden burst of understanding. Nothing came to mind. I saw Harry reaching for it, lifted it in his hands and opened it. The wailing, screeching sound filled the bathroom, echoing and reverberating off the marble walls, but it sounded just as incomprehensible as ever, if not more so with all the echoes.

He snapped it shut again, worried that the sound would attract Filch, and then, making us jump so badly that he dropped the egg, which clattered away across the bathroom floor, someone spoke.

"I'd try putting it in the water, if I were you."

Harry had swallowed a considerable amount of bubbles in shock. He stood up, sputtering, and we turned around and saw the ghost of a very glum-looking girl sitting cross-legged on top of one of the taps.

It was Moaning Myrtle, who was usually to be heard sobbing in the S-bend of a toilet three floors below.

"Myrtle!" Harry said in outrage, "What are you doing here!"

Blinking at him through her thick spectacles, she said "You haven't been to see me for ages."

"Yeah… well…" said Harry, "I'm not supposed to come into your bathroom, am I? It's a girls' one."

"You didn't used to care," said Myrtle miserably. "You used to be in there all the time."

This was new to me, what was he doing in a girls bathroom?

"I got told off for going in there." said Harry, "I thought I'd better not come back after that."

"Oh… I see…" said Myrtle, picking at a spot on her chin in a morose sort of way. "Well… anyway… I'd try the egg in the water. That's what Cedric Diggory did."

"Have you been spying on him too?" said Harry indignantly. "What d'you do, sneak up here in the evenings to watch the prefects take baths?"

"Sometimes," said Myrtle, rather slyly, "but I've never come out to speak to anyone before."

"I'm honoured," said Harry darkly. "I'm going to get the egg."

Harry hoisted himself out of the bath and retrieved the egg. I have said it before and I say it again, quidditch does wonders to the body. Those robes we have to wear, are hiding way too much. Harry saw me checking him out and he blushed. I quickly looked away to hide my smile, he's so cute.

Once he was back in the water, Myrtle said, "Go on, then… open it under the water!"

Harry lowered the egg beneath the foamy surface and opened it… and this time, it did not wail. A gurgling song was coming out of it, a song whose words I couldn't distinguish through the water.

"You need to put your head under too," said Myrtle, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying bossing him around. "Go on!"

Harry and I took a great breath and slid under the surface - and now, sitting on the marble bottom of the bubble-filled bath, I heard a chorus of eerie voices singing to us from the open egg in his hands:

"Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you're searching, ponder this:

We've taken what you'll sorely miss,

An hour long you'll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour- the prospect's black,

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back"

Harry and I let ourself float back upward and broke the bubbly surface, shaking my hair out of my face.

"Hear it?" said Myrtle.

"Yeah… 'Come seek us where our voices sound… ' and if I need persuading… hang on, I need to listen again…" We sank back beneath the water. It took three more underwater renditions of the egg's song before Harry and me had it memorized; then we trod water for a while, thinking hard, while Myrtle sat and watched us.

"I've got to go and look for people who can't use their voices above the ground…" he said slowly. "Er… who could that be?"

"Slow, aren't you?"

I had never seen Moaning Myrtle so cheerful. I stared around the bathroom, thinking… if the voices could only be heard underwater, then it made sense for them to belong to underwater creatures.

"If we can only hear them underwater, then they have to be underwater creatures," I said aloud.

"Well, thats what Diggory thought," Myrtle said. "He lay there talking to himself for ages about it. Ages and ages… nearly all the bubbles had gone…"

"Underwater…" Harry said slowly. "Myrtle… what lives in the lake, apart from the giant squid?"

"Oh all sorts," she said. "I sometimes go down there… sometimes don't have any choice, if someone flushes my toilet when I'm not expecting it…"

Harry said, "Well, does anything in there have a human voice? Hang on -"

Harry's eyes had fallen on the picture of the snoozing mermaid on the wall.

"Myrtle, there aren't merpeople in there, are there?"

"Oooh, very good," she said, her thick glasses twinkling, "it took Diggory much longer than that! And that was with her awake too" – Myrtle jerked her head toward the mermaid with an expression of great dislike on her glum face - "giggling and showing off and flashing her fins…"

"That's it, isn't it?" said Harry excitedly. "The second tasks to go and find the merpeople in the lake and… and…"

But suddenly he stopped. The smile on his face vanished.

"Harry, what's wrong?" I asked him concerned.

"I'm not that of a good swimmer, I never had lessons. The lake is very large and very deep… and merepeople would surely live right at the bottom… Oh no, Aurora, how am I supposed to breath?" Harry asked me panicking.

"Tactless!" Myrtle muttered, groping in her robes for a handkerchief.

"What's tactless?" said Harry, bewildered.

"Talking about breathing in front of me!" she said shrilly, and her voice echoed loudly around the bathroom. "When I can't… when I haven't… not for ages…"

"Harry is sorry, Myrtle, he wasn't thinking. You know how boys are around girls," I tried to say to her.

"Sorry," Harry said impatiently. "I didn't mean - I just forgot…"

"Oh yes, very easy to forget Myrtle's dead," said Myrtle, gulping, looking at him out of swollen eyes. "Nobody missed me even when I was alive. Took them hours and hours to find my body - I know, I was sitting there waiting for them. Olive Hornby came into the bathroom – 'Are you in here again, sulking, Myrtle?' she said, 'because Professor Dippet asked me to look for you -' And then she saw my body… ooooh, she didn't forget it until her dying day, I made sure of that… followed her around and reminded her, I did. I remember at her brother's wedding -"

But we weren't listening; we were thinking about the merpeople's song again.

"We've taken what you'll sorely miss." That sounded as though they were going to steal something of his, something he had to get back. What were they going to take?

"—and then, of course, she went to the Ministry of Magic to stop me stalking her, so I had to come back here and live in my toilet."

"Good," said Harry vaguely. "Well, I'm a lot further on than I was. Let's get out of here."

I nodded and then I asked him, "How will we do this? One at the time and back to back?"

"Well, you already saw me like this, so that doesn't matter anymore, but if you like you can go first and I look the other way." He said.

I climbed out of the bath and reached for a towel. I quickly dried myself of and put my dressing gown back on.

"I'm ready," I said.

Turning myself around so I wouldn't see him, I heard him coming out of the tub and walking towards his clothes. I couldn't hear anything except for some noise while he got ready. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder and it was steering me around. I turned and stared right into his eyes.

"I'm ready," he said.

I nodded and looked at his lips, they looked so inviting. He saw me looking and leaned in, brushed my lips with his and sighed.

"We better get going, it's getting late and I don't want to get caught."

"Ok, let's go," I said and I sneaked in another kiss which got me a smile in return. We gathered everything.

"Will you come and visit me in my bathroom again sometime?" Moaning Myrtle asked mournfully as Harry picked up the Invisibility Cloak.

"Er… I'll try, See you. Myrtle… thanks for your help."

"Bye, 'bye," she said gloomily, and as Harry put on the Invisibility Cloak around us, I saw her zoom back up the tap.

Out in the dark corridor, I examined the Marauders Map to check that the coast was still clear. Yes, the dots belonging to Filch and his cat, Mrs. Norris, were safely in their office… nothing else seemed to be moving apart from Peeves, though he was bouncing around the trophy room on the floor above… I had taken my first step back toward Gryffindor Tower when something else on the map caught my eye… something distinctly was not the only thing that was moving. A single dot was flitting around a room in the bottom left-hand corner - Snapes office. But the dot wasn't labeled "Severus Snape"… it was Bartemius Crouch.

I got Harry's attention and pointed to the name. Harry and I stared at the dot. Mr. Crouch was supposed to be too ill to go to work or to come to the Yule Ball - so what was he doing, sneaking into Hogwarts at one o'clock in the morning? I watched closely as the dot moved around and around the room, pausing here and there…

Harry nudged me and I saw what he was thinking and nodded my head. We turned and set off in the opposite direction toward the nearest staircase. We were going to see what Crouch was up to.

We walked down the stairs as quietly as possible, though the faces in some of the portraits still turned curiously at the squeak of a floorboard, the rustle of our pajamas. We crept along the corridor below, pushed aside a tapestry about halfway along, and proceeded down a narrower staircase, a shortcut that would take us down two floors. I kept glancing down at the map, wondering… It just didn't seem in character, somehow, for correct, law-abiding Mr. Crouch to be sneaking around somebody else's office this late at night…

And then, halfway down the staircase, not thinking about what he was doing, not concentrating on anything but the peculiar behavior of Mr. Crouch, Harry's leg suddenly sank right through the trick step Neville always forgot to jump. I felt him disappearing from beside me and I cursed in myself.

He gave an ungainly wobble, and the golden egg, still damp from the bath, slipped from under his arm. I lurched forward to try and catch it, but too late; the egg fell down the long staircase with a bang as loud as a bass drum on every step – the Invisibility Cloak slipped of me - Harry snatched at it, and the Marauder s Map fluttered out of my hand and slid down six stairs, because I was too busy holding on to the cloak.

The golden egg fell through the tapestry at the bottom of the staircase, burst open, and began wailing loudly in the corridor below. I pulled out my wand and went to touch the Marauder s Map, to wipe it blank, but it was too far away to reach without coming out under the cloak. I went to shake of the cloak when almost immediately –

"PEEVES!"

It was the unmistakable hunting cry of Filch the caretaker. I could hear his rapid, shuffling footsteps coming nearer and nearer, his wheezy voice raised in fury.

"What's this racket? Wake up the whole castle, will you? I'll have you, Peeves, I'll have you, you'll… and what is this?"

Filch's footsteps halted; there was a clink of metal on metal and the wailing stopped - Filch had picked up the egg and closed it. I stood very still next to Harry, crouching a bit so we wouldn't be seen. Any moment now, Filch was going to pull aside the tapestry, expecting to see Peeves… and there would be no Peeves… but if he came up the stairs, he would spot the Marauder's Map… and Invisibility Cloak or not, the map would show "Harry Potter" and "Aurora Black" standing exactly where we were.

"Egg?" Filch said quietly at the foot of the stairs. "My sweet!" - Mrs. Norris was obviously with him - "This is a Triwizard clue! This belongs to a school champion!"

I felt sick; my heart was hammering very fast –

"PEEVES!" Filch roared gleefully. "You've been stealing!"

He ripped back the tapestry below, and Harry saw his horrible, pouchy face and bulging, pale eyes staring up the dark and (to Filch) deserted staircase.

"Hiding, are you?" he said softly. "I'm coming to get you, Peeves… You've gone and stolen a Triwizard clue, Peeves… Dumbledore'll have you out of here for this, you filthy, pilfering poltergeist…"

Filch started to climb the stairs, his scrawny, dust-colored cat at his heels. Mrs. Norris's lamp-like eyes, so very like her masters, were fixed directly upon Harry and me. Sick with apprehension, I watched Filch drawing nearer and nearer in his old flannel dressing gown - Harry tried desperately to pull his trapped leg free, but it merely sank a few more inches - any second now, Filch was going to spot the map or walk right into us –

"Filch? Whats going on?"

Filch stopped a few steps below Harry and me and turned. At the foot of the stairs stood the only person who could make our situation worse: Snape. He was wearing a long gray nightshirt and he looked livid.

"It's Peeves, Professor," Filch whispered malevolently. "He threw this egg down the stairs."

Snape climbed up the stairs quickly and stopped beside Filch. I held my breath, convinced my loudly thumping heart would give us away at any second…

"Peeves?" said Snape softly, staring at the egg in Filch's hands. "But Peeves couldn't get into my office…"

"This egg was in your office. Professor?"

"Of course not," Snape snapped. "I heard banging and wailing -"

"Yes, Professor, that was the egg -"

"- I was coming to investigate -"

"- Peeves threw it. Professor -"

"- and when I passed my office, I saw that the torches were lit and a cupboard door was ajar! Somebody has been searching it!"

"But Peeves couldn't -"

"I know he couldn't, Filch!" Snape snapped again. "I seal my office with a spell none but a wizard could break!" Snape looked up the stairs, straight through Harry and me, and then down into the corridor below. "I want you to come and help me search for the intruder, Filch."

"I - yes, Professor - but -"

Filch looked yearningly up the stairs, right through Harry and me, we could see that he was very reluctant to forgo the chance of cornering Peeves. Go, I pleaded with him silently, go with Snape… go… Mrs. Norris was peering around Filch's legs… I had the distinct impression that she could smell us… Why had Harry filled that bath with so much perfumed foam?

"The thing is, Professor," said Filch plaintively, "the headmaster will have to listen to me this time. Peeves has been stealing from a student, it might be my chance to get him thrown out of the castle once and for all -"

"Filch, I don't give a damn about that wretched poltergeist; it's my office that's -" Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

Snape stopped talking very abruptly. He and Filch both looked down at the foot of the stairs. I saw Mad-Eye Moody limp into sight through the narrow gap between their heads. Moody was wearing his old traveling cloak over his nightshirt and leaning on his staff as usual.

"Pajama party, is it?" he growled up the stairs.

"Professor Snape and I heard noises, Professor," said Filch at once. "Peeves the Poltergeist, throwing things around as usual - and then Professor Snape discovered that someone had broken into his off -"

"Shut up!" Snape hissed to Filch.

Moody took a step closer to the foot of the stairs. I saw Moodys magical eye travel over Snape, and then, unmistakably, onto us.

My heart gave a horrible jolt. Moody could see through Invisibility Cloaks… he alone could see the full strangeness of the scene: Snape in his nightshirt, Filch clutching the egg, Harry trapped in the stairs behind them and me standing beside him. Moody's lopsided gash of a mouth opened in surprise. For a few seconds, he and I stared straight into each other's eyes. Then Moody closed his mouth and turned his blue eye upon Snape again.

"Did I hear that correctly, Snape?" he asked slowly. "Someone broke into your office?"

"It is unimportant," said Snape coldly.

"On the contrary," growled Moody, "it is very important. Who'd want to break into your office?"

"A student, I daresay," said Snape. I could see a vein flickering horribly on Snape's greasy temple. "It has happened before. Potion ingredients have gone missing from my private store cupboard… students attempting illicit mixtures, no doubt…"

"Reckon they were after potion ingredients, eh?" said Moody. "Not hiding anything else in your office, are you?"

I saw the edge of Snapes sallow face turn a nasty brick color, the vein in his temple pulsing more rapidly.

"You know I'm hiding nothing, Moody," he said in a soft and dangerous voice, "as you've searched my office pretty thoroughly yourself."

Moodys face twisted into a smile. "Auror's privilege, Snape. Dumbledore told me to keep an eye -"

"Dumbledore happens to trust me," said Snape through clenched teeth. "I refuse to believe that he gave you orders to search my office!"

"Course Dumbledore trusts you," growled Moody. "He's a trusting man, isn't he? Believes in second chances. But me - I say there are spots that don't come off, Snape. Spots that never come off, d'you know what I mean?"

Snape suddenly did something very strange. He seized his left forearm convulsively with his right hand, as though something on it had hurt him. No, he couldn't be. Was he a …

Moody laughed. "Get back to bed, Snape."

"You don't have the authority to send me anywhere!" Snape hissed, letting go of his arm as though angry with himself. "I have as much right to prowl this school after dark as you do!"

"Prowl away," said Moody, but his voice was full of menace. "I look forward to meeting you in a dark corridor some time… You've dropped something, by the way…"

With a stab of horror I saw Moody point at the Marauders Map, still lying on the staircase six steps below him. As Snape and Filch both turned to look at it, Harry threw caution to the winds; he raised his arms under the cloak and waved furiously at Moody to attract his attention, mouthing "It's mine! Mine!"

Snape had reached out for it, a horrible expression of dawning comprehension on his face –

"Accio Parchment!"

The map flew up into the air, slipped through Snape's outstretched fingers, and soared down the stairs into Moodys hand.

"My mistake," Moody said calmly. "It's mine - must've dropped it earlier -"

But Snape's black eyes were darting from the egg in Filch's arms to the map in Moodys hand, and I could tell he was putting two and two together, as only Snape could…

"Potter," he said quietly.

"What's that?" said Moody calmly, folding up the map and pocketing it.

"Potter!" Snape snarled, and he actually turned his head and stared right at the place where Harry and I were, as though he could suddenly see him. "That egg is Potters egg. That piece of parchment belongs to Potter. I have seen it before, I recognize it! Potter is here! Potter, in his Invisibility Cloak!"

Snape stretched out his hands like a blind man and began to move up the stairs; I could have sworn his over-large nostrils were dilating, trying to sniff Harry out - trapped. Harry and I leaned backward, trying to avoid Snapes fingertips, but any moment now-

"There's nothing there, Snape!" barked Moody, "but I'll be happy to tell the headmaster how quickly your mind jumped to Harry Potter!"

"Meaning what?" Snape turned again to look at Moody, his hands still outstretched, inches from Harry's chest.

"Meaning that Dumbledore's very interested to know who's got it in for that boy!" said Moody, limping nearer still to the foot of the stairs. "And so am I, Snape… very interested…" The torchlight flickered across his mangled face, so that the scars, and the chunk missing from his nose, looked deeper and darker than ever.

Snape was looking down at Moody, and I couldn't see the expression on his face. For a moment, nobody moved or said anything. Then Snape slowly lowered his hands.

"I merely thought," said Snape, in a voice of forced calm, "that if Potter was wandering around after hours again… it's an unfortunate habit of his… he should be stopped. For - for his own safety."

"Ah, I see," said Moody softly. "Got Potter's best interests at heart, have you?"

There was a pause. Snape and Moody were still staring at each other, Mrs. Norris gave a loud meow, still peering around Filch's legs, looking for the source of our bubble-bath smell.

"I think I will go back to bed," Snape said curtly.

"Best idea you've had all night," said Moody. "Now, Filch, if you'll just give me that egg-"

"No!" said Filch, clutching the egg as though it were his firstborn son. "Professor Moody, this is evidence of Peeves' treachery!"

"It's the property of the champion he stole it from," said Moody. "Hand it over, now."

Snape swept downstairs and passed Moody without another word. Filch made a chirruping noise to Mrs. Norris, who stared blankly at Harry and me for a few more seconds before turning and following her master. Still breathing very fast. I heard Snape walking away down the corridor; Filch handed Moody the egg and disappeared from view too, muttering to Mrs. Norris. "Never mind my sweet… we'll see Dumbledore in the morning… tell him what Peeves was up to…"

A door slammed. Harry and I were left staring down at Moody, who placed his staff on the bottommost stair and started to climb laboriously toward us, a dull clunk on every other step.

"Close shave Potter, Black" he muttered.

"Yeah… I - er… thanks," said Harry weakly.

"Yes, thank you professor." I said.

"What is this thing?" said Moody, drawing the Marauder's Map out of his pocket and unfolding it.

"Map of Hogwarts," said Harry. I threw of the cloak and seized Harry under his armpits to try to get him out.

"Merlin's beard," Moody whispered, staring at the map, his magical eye going haywire. "This… this is some map. Potter!"

"Yeah, it's… quite useful," Harry said. His eyes were starting to water from the pain.

"Er - Professor Moody, d'you think you could help me get Harry out -?"

"What? Oh! Yes… yes, of course…"

Moody took hold of Harry's other arm and together we pulled; Harry's leg came free of the trick step, and he climbed onto the one above it. Moody was still gazing at the map. "Potter…" he said slowly, "you didn't happen, by any chance, to see who broke into Snape's office, did you? On this map, I mean?"

"Er… yeah, I did…"I admitted. "It was Mr. Crouch."

Moody's magical eye whizzed over the entire surface of the map. He looked suddenly alarmed.

"Crouch?" he said. "You're - you're sure Black?"

"Positive," I said.

"Well, he's not here anymore," said Moody, his eye still whizzing over the map. "Crouch… that's very - very interesting…"

He said nothing for almost a minute, still staring at the map. I could tell that this news meant something to Moody and very much wanted to know what it was. I wondered whether I dared asking. Moody scared me slightly… yet Moody had just helped us avoid an awful lot of trouble…

"Er… Professor Moody… why d'you reckon Mr. Crouch wanted to look around Snape's office?"

Moody's magical eye left the map and fixed, quivering, upon me. It was a penetrating glare, and I had the impression that Moody was sizing me up, wondering whether to answer or not, or how much to tell me.

"Put it this way Black," Moody muttered finally, "they say old Mad-Eye's obsessed with catching Dark wizards… but I'm nothing - nothing - compared to Barty Crouch."

He continued to stare at the map. I was burning to know more.

"Professor Moody?" I said again. "Do you think… could this have anything to do with… maybe Mr. Crouch thinks there's something going on…"

"Like what?" said Moody sharply.

I wondered how much I dared to say. I didn't want Moody to guess that I had a source of information outside Hogwarts; that might lead to tricky questions about dad.

"I don't know," I muttered, "odd stuffs been happening lately, hasn't it? It's been in the Daily Prophet… the Dark Mark at the World Cup, and the Death Eaters and everything…"

Both of Moody's mismatched eyes widened.

"You're a sharp girl, Black," he said. His magical eye roved back to the Marauder's Map. "Crouch could be thinking along those lines," he said slowly. "Very possible… there have been some funny rumors flying around lately - helped along by Rita Skeeter, of course. It's making a lot of people nervous, I reckon." A grim smile twisted his lopsided mouth. "Oh if there's one thing I hate," he muttered, more to himself than to us, and his magical eye was fixed on the left-hand corner of the map, "it's a Death Eater who walked free…"

I stared at him. Could Moody possibly mean what I thought he meant? Where my suspicions correct?

"And now I want to ask you a question Potter," said Moody in a more businesslike tone.

My heart sank; I had thought this was coming. Moody was going to ask where we had got this map, which was a very dubious magical object - and the story of how it had fallen into our hands incriminated not only us, but dad, Fred and George Weasley, and uncle Moony. Moody waved the map in front of us-

"Can I borrow this?"

"Oh!" said Harry. I blinked, what?

I was very fond of my map, but on the other hand, I was extremely relieved that Moody wasn't asking where we'd got it, and there was no doubt that we owed Moody a favor.

"Yeah, okay." Harry said.

"Good boy," growled Moody. "I can make good use of this… this might be exactly what I've been looking for… Right, bed, Potter, Black, come on, now…"

We climbed to the top of the stairs together, Moody still examining the map as though it was a treasure the like of which he had never seen before. We walked in silence to the door of Moody's office, where he stopped and looked up at me.

"You ever thought of a career as an Auror, Black?"

"No," I said, taken aback.

"You want to consider it," said Moody, nodding and looking at Harry and me thoughtfully. "Yes, indeed… and incidentally… I'm guessing you weren't just taking that egg for a walk tonight?"

"Er - no," said Harry, grinning. "We've been working out the clue."

Moody winked at him, his magical eye going haywire again. "Nothing like a nighttime stroll to give you ideas, Potter… See you in the morning…"

He went back into his office, staring down at the Marauders Map again, and closed the door behind him.

Harry and I walked slowly back to Gryffindor Tower, lost in thought about Snape, and Crouch, and what it all meant… Why was Crouch pretending to be ill, if he could manage to get to Hogwarts when he wanted to? What did he think Snape was concealing in his office? And Moody thought I ought to be an Auror! Just like dad once was.

**A/N: Wauw I can't believe I finally finished this chapter **** Hope you liked it, let me know!**


	22. The Second Task

**A/N: I don't own anything.**

**Enjoy the next chapter!**

**Chapter 22: ****The Second Task **

"You said you'd already worked out that egg clue!" said Hermione indignantly.

"Keep your voice down!" said Harry crossly. "I just need to - sort of fine-tune it, all right?"

"He was almost there, Hermione, he just needed to sort out some details. It's ok!" I said.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I were sitting at the very back of the Charms class with a table to ourselves. We were supposed to be practicing the opposite of the Summoning Charm today - the Banishing Charm. Owing to the potential for nasty accidents when objects kept flying across the room, Professor Flitwick had given each student a stack of cushions on which to practice, the theory being that these wouldn't hurt anyone if they went off target. It was a good theory, but it wasn't working very well. Neville's aim was so poor that he kept accidentally sending much heavier things flying across the room - Professor Flitwick, for instance.

"Just forget the egg for a minute, all right?" Harry hissed as Professor Flitwick went whizzing resignedly past us, landing on top of a large cabinet. "I'm trying to tell you about Snape and Moody…"

This class was an ideal cover for a private conversation, as everyone was having far too much fun to pay us any attention. Harry had been recounting our adventures of the previous night in whispered installments for the last half hour.

"Snape said Moody's searched his office as well?" Ron whispered, his eyes alight with interest as he Banished a cushion with a sweep of his wand (it soared into the air and knocked Parvati's hat off). "What… d'you reckon Moody's here to keep an eye on Snape as well as Karkaroff?"

"Well, I dunno if that's what Dumbledore asked him to do, but he's definitely doing it," said Harry, waving his wand without paying much attention, so that his cushion did an odd sort of belly flop off the desk. "Moody said Dumbledore only lets Snape stay here because he's giving him a second chance or something…"

"What?" said Ron, his eyes widening, his next cushion spinning high into the air, ricocheting off the chandelier, and dropping heavily onto Flitwick's desk. "Harry… maybe Moody thinks Snape put your name in the Goblet of Fire!"

"Oh Ron," said Hermione, shaking her head sceptically, "we thought Snape was trying to kill Harry before, and it turned out he was saving Harry's life, remember?"

She Banished a cushion and it flew across the room and landed in the box they were all supposed to be aiming at. I looked at Hermione, thinking… it was true that Snape had saved Harry's life once (Harry told me about his first quidditch match), but the odd thing was, Snape definitely loathed Harry, just as he'd loathed Harry's father when they had been at school together. Snape loved taking points from Harry and me, and had certainly never missed an opportunity to give us punishments, or even to suggest that we should be suspended from the school. But to really try and kill somebody just because you couldn't stand their fathers, I don't think that's his style.

"I don't care what Moody says," Hermione went on. "Dumbledore's not stupid. He was right to trust Hagrid and Professor Lupin, even though loads of people wouldn't have given them jobs, so why shouldn't he be right about Snape, even if Snape is a bit -"

"- evil," said Ron promptly. "Come on, Hermione, why are all these Dark wizard catchers searching his office, then?"

"Why has Mr. Crouch been pretending to be ill?" said Hermione, ignoring Ron. "Its a bit funny, isn't it, that he can't manage to come to the Yule Ball, but he can get up here in the middle of the night when he wants to?"

"You just don't like Crouch because of that elf, Winky," said Ron, sending a cushion soaring into the window.

"You just want to think Snape's up to something," said Hermione, sending her cushion zooming neatly into the box. Mine followed hers and landed neatly on top of hers.

"I just want to know what Snape did with his first chance, if he's on his second one," said Harry grimly, and his cushion, to our very great surprise, flew straight across the room and landed neatly on top of mine. I gave him a kiss on the cheek for that. Harry blushed but kissed me quick on the lips. The rest of the lesson, we both had a smile on our face.

Obedient to dads wish of hearing about anything odd at Hogwarts, Harry and I sent him a letter by brown owl that night, explaining all about Mr. Crouch breaking into Snape s office, and Moody and Snape's conversation. We also concluded that I broke up with Cedric, although I didn't say why (I could just see him storming the castle because someone had hurt his precious star). We did hint that something else had happened that would make him and prongs very happy and to remember a previous letter he wrote to me. Then Harry and I turned our attention in earnest to the most urgent problem facing him: how to survive underwater for an hour on the twenty-fourth of February.

Ron quite liked the idea of using the Summoning Charm again - Harry had explained about Aqua-Lungs, and Ron couldn't see why Harry shouldn't Summon one from the nearest Muggle town. Hermione squashed this plan by pointing out that, in the unlikely event that Harry managed to learn how to operate an Aqua- Lung within the set limit of an hour, he was sure to be disqualified for breaking the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy - it was too much to hope that no Muggles would spot an Aqua-Lung zooming across the countryside to Hogwarts.

"Of course, the ideal solution would be for you to Transfigure yourself into a submarine or something," Hermione said. "If only we'd done human Transfiguration already! But I don't think we start that until sixth year, and it can go badly wrong if you don't know what you're doing…"

"Yeah, I don't fancy walking around with a periscope sticking out of my head," said Harry. "I s'pose I could always attack someone in front of Moody; he might do it for me…"

"I don't think he'd let you choose what you wanted to be turned into, though," said Hermione seriously. "No, I think your best chance is some sort of charm."

So we buried ourself once more among the dusty volumes, looking for any spell that might enable a human to survive without oxygen. However, though Harry, Ron, Hermione and I searched through our lunchtimes, evenings, and whole weekends - though Harry asked Professor McGonagall for a note of permission to use the Restricted Section, and we even asked the irritable, vulture-like librarian Madam Pince, for help – we found nothing whatsoever that would enable Harry to spend an hour underwater and live to tell the tale.

There was a week to go before February the twenty-fourth when I suddenly remembered something.

"I know!" I said loudly. The others stopped looking through their books and looked at me.

"You know? What?" Ron asked me.

"I can't believe I didn't think of this before, how could I be so stupid. This dust of this old books really messed up …" I muttered.

"Aurora, Aurora!" Hermione tried to get my attention.

"Bloody hell woman, what do you know!" Ron said, grabbing my arm.

I looked up to the rest and said, "I can ask uncle Moony if he knows anything. He knows everything there is to know about creatures, maybe he knows something about this to!" I said exciting.

"Well, what are you waiting for! Go write to him!" Harry said.

"Alright, in the meantime, keep looking!" I said and I took a spare piece of parchment and started writing to uncle Moony and then send it off with Hedwig.

(there was still time)… there were five days to go (we were bound to find something soon)… three days to go (please let us find something… please)… With two days left Harry started to go off food again. The only good thing about breakfast on Monday was the return of the brown owl we had sent to dad. He pulled off the parchment, unrolled it, and we saw the shortest letter dad had ever written to us.

_Send date of next Hogsmeade weekend by return owl._

Harry turned the parchment over and we looked at the back, hoping to see something else, but it was blank.

"Weekend after next," whispered Hermione, who had read the note over Harry's shoulder. "Here - take my quill and send this owl back straight away."

Harry scribbled the dates down on the back of dads letter, tied it onto the brown owl's leg, and watched it take flight again. What had he expected? Advice on how to survive underwater? He had been so intent on telling Sirius all about Snape and Moody he had completely forgotten to mention the eggs clue. And I forgot to, to busy thinking about his reaction when he figures out the clue we gave him about us.

"What's he want to know about the next Hogsmeade weekend for?" said Ron.

"Dunno," said Harry dully. The momentary happiness that had flared inside him at the sight of the owl had died. "Come on… Care of Magical Creatures."

Whether Hagrid was trying to make up for the Blast-Ended Skrewts, or because there were now only two skrewts left, or because he was trying to prove he could do anything that Professor Grubbly-Plank could, I didnt know, but Hagrid had been continuing her lessons on unicorns ever since he'd returned to work. It turned out that Hagrid knew quite as much about unicorns as he did about monsters, though it was clear that he found their lack of poisonous fangs disappointing.

Today he had managed to capture two unicorn foals. Unlike full-grown unicorns, they were pure gold. Parvati and Lavender went into transports of delight at the sight of them, and even Pansy Parkinson had to work hard to conceal how much she liked them.

"Easier ter spot than the adults," Hagrid told the class. "They turn silver when they're abou' two years old, an' they grow horns at aroun four. Don' go pure white till they're full grown, 'round about seven. They're a bit more trustin when they're babies… don mind boys so much… C'mon, move in a bit, yeh can pat 'em if yeh want… give 'em a few o' these sugar lumps…

"You okay Harry?" Hagrid muttered, moving aside slightly, while most of the others swarmed around the baby unicorns.

"Yeah," said Harry.

"Jus' nervous, eh?" said Hagrid.

"Bit," said Harry.

"Harry," said Hagrid, clapping a massive hand on his shoulder, so that Harry's knees buckled under its weight, "I'd've bin worried before I saw yeh take on tha Horntail, but I know now yeh can do anythin' yeh set yer mind ter. I'm not worried at all. Yeh're goin ter be fine. Got yer clue worked out, haven' yeh?"

Harry nodded and I could tell that it was hurting him. I took his hand in mine and smiled at him when he looked me.

"Yeh're goin' ter win," Hagrid growled, patting Harrys shoulder again. "I know it. I can feel it. Yeh're goin' ter win, Harry".

Pretending he was interested in the young unicorns, he forced a smile in return, and moved forward, dragging me with him to pat them with the others.

By the evening before the second task I felt as though I were trapped in a nightmare. We hadn't find anything yet and I still hadn't heard anything back from uncle Moony. Fed up with being cramped up in the library I told the others I was going to take a walk to clear my head. I gave Harry a kissed ad told him I would be back soon.

I was wandering in the corridor when I saw Parvati running towards me.

"Aurora, you've got a letter, it came with Hedwig. I know you've been looking for her!" she said when she reached me, holding out a letter.

"Finally! Thanks Parvati!" I said and I hugged her.

I opened the letter and started reading it. Finally, a way for Harry to succeed the second task. I gave a smile to Parvati and turned around, running at full speed back to the library.

"Miss Black!" someone yelled behind me.

Oh no, I recognize that voice, it's professor McGonagall. I stopped and turned around trying to look completely innocent.

"Yes professor?"

"No running in the hallway! You could've killed yourself!"

"I'm sorry professor, it won't happen again," I said. "If you would excuse me, I have an important thing I need to do."

"That can wait, miss Black. I need you in my office right now, no room for discussion!"

"But …."

"Miss Black, now!"

"Ok, professor," I said and I followed her to her office. Getting there, I saw that Hermione was also inside.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" I asked her.

"The twins got me, saying I was needed here." She said.

"Now that I have both of you here, we only need the others and the headmaster." Professor McGonagall said.

"Excuse me professor, what others?" Hermione asked.

Just when the professor was about to answer, there was a knock on the door and it opened. In came Professor Dumbledore, Chang and a little girl. Hatred filled me when I looked at Chang but a hand on my arm stopped me from saying or doing anything. I looked at Hermione and nodded my thanks. She just shook her head and smiled.

"Wonderful, you are al here." Professor Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Professor, what's going on?" Chang asked.

"I'm sure you are all aware that the second task is tomorrow?"

We all nodded.

"Well, you may or may not know is that the champions are to retain something they hold dear and it's going to be placed at the bottom of the lake," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye.

Oh no, I got a bad feeling about this. Looking at Hermione, I saw that she was coming to the same conclusion. Sitting straight in her chair, she raised hand.

"For god's sake, Hermione, we are not in class. Seeing as we are here, that something dear is us?" I asked.

"You are correct, miss Black. Miss Delacour will be miss Delacour's hostage, Miss chang mister Digorry's, Miss Granger that of mister Krum and you will be mister Potter's hostage." He said.

"Oh ok," said calmly, "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR BLOODY MIND!" I yelled.

"Miss Black!" professor McGonagall said with her eyes big and her lips very thin.

"What are you thinking! Have you forgotten how Harry is when someone he cares about is in danger! How can you do something like this to him! Not to mention to fact that I don't like to spend an hour on the bottom of the bloody lake! I won't do it! I can't do this to Harry! It would kill him!" I was panting now. Hermione was looking frighten but she was nodding with what I was saying. Chang looked at me like I was crazy.

"Miss Black, I'm aware of this all. But I assure you, no harm will come to you or the other hostages, not will the champions be hurt. You will be put in a magical sleep so you won't know a thing. Everything will be perfectly save. I'm afraid there is no other way." Dumbledore said.

"Fine, but I don't like this! Now, I'm going to Harry, tell him to worry, because he will!" I said and I walked to the door, only to find it locked. I turned around.

"I'm sorry miss Black, but you can't tell mister Potter anything. You will be put in the magical sleep now and placed on the bottom of the lake tonight."

"What!" I yelled.

"I'm sorry miss Black," he said and then everything went black.

**Harry's POV**

By eight o'clock Madam Pince had extinguished all the lamps and came to chivvy Ron and me out of the library. Staggering under the weight of as many books as I could carry, I returned to the Gryffindor common room, pulled a table into a corner, and continued to search. There was nothing in Madcap Magic for Wacky Warlocks… nothing in A Guide to Medieval Sorcery… not one mention of underwater exploits in An Anthology of Eighteenth-Century Charms, or in Dreadful Denizens of the Deep, or Powers You Never Knew You Had and What to Do with Them Now Youve Wised Up.

Crookshanks crawled into my lap and curled up, purring deeply. The common room emptied slowly around me. People kept wishing him luck for the next morning in cheery, confident voices like Hagrid s, all of them apparently convinced that he was about to pull off another stunning performance like the one he had managed in the first task.

I couldn't answer them, I just nodded, feeling as though there were a golfball stuck in my throat. By ten to midnight, Iwas alone in the room with Crookshanks. Ron went to bed because he kept falling asleep. I had searched all the remaining books, and Aurora and Hermione had not come back. Where is she? She said she would back as Hermione said as well.

It's over, I told myself. You can't do it. You'll just have to go down to the lake in the morning and tell the judges…

I imagined himself explaining that he couldn't do the task. He pictured Bagman's look of round-eyed surprise, Karkaroffs satisfied, yellow-toothed smile. He could almost hear Fleur Delacour saying "I knew it… 'e is too young, 'e is only a little boy." He saw Malfoy flashing his POTTER STINKS badge at the front of the crowd, saw Hagrid s crestfallen, disbelieving face…

Forgetting that Crookshanks was on my lap. I stood up very suddenly; Crookshanks hissed angrily as he landed on the floor, gave me a disgusted look, and stalked away with his bottlebrush tail in the air, but I was already hurrying up the spiral staircase to my dormitory… He would grab the Invisibility Cloak and go back to the library, he'd stay there all night if he had to…

"Lumos," I whispered fifteen minutes later as I opened the library door.

Wand tip alight, I crept along the bookshelves, pulling down more books – books of hexes and charms, books on merpeople and water monsters, books on famous witches and wizards, on magical inventions, on anything at all that might include one passing reference to underwater survival. He carried them over to a table, then set to work, searching them by the narrow beam of his wand, occasionally checking his watch…

One in the morning… two in the morning… the only way I could keep going was to tell himself, over and over again, next book… in the next one… the next one…

The mermaid in the painting in the prefects' bathroom was laughing. Harry was bobbing like a cork in bubbly water next to her rock, while she held his Firebolt over his head.

"Come and get it!" she giggled maliciously. "Come on, jump!"

"I can't," Harry panted, snatching at the Firebolt, and struggling not to sink. "Give it to me!"

But she just poked him painfully in the side with the end of the broomstick, laughing at him.

"That hurts - get off- ouch -"

"Harry Potter must wake up, sir!"

"Stop poking me -"

"Dobby must poke Harry Potter, sir, he must wake up!"

I opened my eyes. I was still in the library; the Invisibility Cloak had slipped off my head as I'd slept, and the side of my face was stuck to the pages of Where There's a Wand, There's a Way. I sat up, straightening my glasses, blinking in the bright daylight.

"Harry Potter needs to hurry!" squeaked Dobby. "The second task starts in ten minutes, and Harry Potter -"

"Ten minutes?" I croaked. "Ten - ten minutes?"

I looked down at my watch. Dobby was right. It was twenty past nine. A large, dead weight seemed to fall through my chest into my stomach.

"Hurry, Harry Potter!" squeaked Dobby, plucking at my sleeve. "You is supposed to be down by the lake with the other champions, sir!"

"It's too late, Dobby," I said hopelessly. "I'm not doing the task, I don't know how-"

"Harry Potter will do the task!" squeaked the elf. "Dobby knew Harry had not found the right book, so Dobby did it for him!"

"What?" I said. "But you don't know what the second task is -"

"Dobby knows, sir! Harry Potter has to go into the lake and find his Blacksie.."

"Find my what?"

"- and take his Blacksie back from the merpeople!"

"What's a Blacksie?"

"Your Blacksie, sir, your Blacksie-The girl Blacksie!" Dobby said.

"What?" I gasped. "They've got… they've got Aurora?"

"The thing Harry Potter will miss most, sir!" squeaked Dobby. "'But past an hour- '"

"- 'the prospect's black,'" I recited, staring, horror-struck, at the elf. "'Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.' Dobby - what've I got to do?"

"You has to eat this, sir!" squeaked the elf, and he put his hand in the pocket of his shorts and drew out a ball of what looked like slimy, grayish-green rat tails.

"Right before you go into the lake, sir - gillyweed!"

"What's it do?" I said, staring at the gillyweed.

"It will make Harry Potter breathe underwater, sir!"

"Dobby," I said frantically, "listen - are you sure about this?"

He couldn't quite forget that the last time Dobby had tried to "help" him, he had ended up with no bones in his right arm.

"Dobby is quite sure, sir!" said the elf earnestly. "Dobby hears things, sir, he is a house-elf, he goes all over the castle as he lights the fires and mops the floors. Dobby heard Professor McGonagall and Professor Moody in the staffroom, talking about the next task… Dobby cannot let Harry Potter lose his Blacksie!"

My doubts vanished. Jumping to my feet I pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, stuffed it into my bag, grabbed the gillyweed, and put it into my pocket, then tore out of the library with Dobby at my heels.

"Dobby is supposed to be in the kitchens, sir!" Dobby squealed as we burst into the corridor. "Dobby will be missed - good luck, Harry Potter, sir, good luck!"

"See you later, Dobby!" I shouted, and I sprinted along the corridor and down the stairs, three at a time.

The entrance hall contained a few last-minute stragglers, all leaving the Great Hall after breakfast and heading through the double oak doors to watch the second task. They stared as I flashed past, sending Colin and Dennis Creevey flying as I leapt down the stone steps and out onto the bright, chilly grounds.

As I pounded down the lawn I saw that the seats that had encircled the dragons' enclosure in November were now ranged along the opposite bank, rising in stands that were packed to the bursting point and reflected in the lake below. The excited babble of the crowd echoed strangely across the water as I ran flat-out around the other side of the lake toward the judges, who were sitting at another golddraped table at the water's edge. Cedric, Fleur, and Krum were beside the judges' table, watching me sprint toward them.

"I'm… here…" I panted, skidding to a halt in the mud and accidentally splattering Fleurs robes.

"Where have you been?" said a bossy, disapproving voice. "The task's about to start!"

I looked around. Percy Weasley was sitting at the judges' table - Mr. Crouch had failed to turn up again.

"Now, now, Percy!" said Ludo Bagman, who was looking intensely relieved to see me. "Let him catch his breath!"

Dumbledore smiled at me, but Karkaroff and Madame Maxime didn't look at all pleased to see him… It was obvious from the looks on their faces that they had thought he wasn't going to turn up.

I bent over, hands on my knees, gasping for breath; he had a stitch in his side that felt as though he had a knife between his ribs, but there was no time to get rid of it; Ludo Bagman was now moving among the champions, spacing them along the bank at intervals of ten feet. I was on the very end of the line, next to Krum, who was wearing swimming trunks and was holding his wand ready.

"All right. Harry?" Bagman whispered as he moved me a few feet farther away from Krum. "Know what you're going to do?"

"Yeah," I panted, massaging my ribs.

Bagman gave my shoulder a quick squeeze and returned to the judges' table; he pointed his wand at his throat as he had done at the World Cup, said, "Sonorus!" and his voice boomed out across the dark water toward the stands.

"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One… two… three!"

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause; without looking to see what the other champions were doing, I pulled off my shoes and socks, pulled the handful of gillyweed out of my pocket, stuffed it into my mouth, and waded out into the lake.

It was so cold he felt the skin on his legs searing as though this were fire, not icy water. His sodden robes weighed him down as he walked in deeper; now the water was over his knees, and his rapidly numbing feet were slipping over silt and flat, slimy stones. He was chewing the gillyweed as hard and fast as he could; it felt unpleasantly slimy and rubbery, like octopus tentacles. Waist-deep in the freezing water he stopped, swallowed, and waited for something to happen.

He could hear laughter in the crowd and knew he must look stupid, walking into the lake without showing any sign of magical power.

The part of him that was still dry was covered in goose pimples; half immersed in the icy water, a cruel breeze lifting his hair, I started to shiver violently. I avoided looking at the stands; the laughter was becoming louder, and there were catcalls and jeering from the Slytherins…

Then, quite suddenly, I felt as though an invisible pillow had been pressed over my mouth and nose. I tried to draw breath, but it made my head spin; my lungs were empty, and I suddenly felt a piercing pain on either side of my neck - I clapped my hands around my throat and felt two large slits just below my ears, flapping in the cold air… I had gills.

Without pausing to think, he did the only thing that made sense - he flung himself forward into the water. The first gulp of icy lake water felt like the breath of life. His head had stopped spinning; he took another great gulp of water and felt it pass smoothly through his gills, sending oxygen back to his brain. He stretched out his hands in front of him and stared at them. They looked green and ghostly under the water, and they had become webbed. He twisted around and looked at his bare feet - they had become elongated and the toes were webbed too: It looked as though he had sprouted flippers.

The water didn't feel icy anymore either… on the contrary, he felt pleasantly cool and very light… I struck out once more, marveling at how far and fast my flipper-like feet propelled me through the water, and noticing how clearly I could see, and how I no longer seemed to need to blink. I had soon swum so far into the lake that I could no longer see the bottom. I flipped over and dived into its depths.

Silence pressed upon my ears as I soared over a strange, dark, foggy landscape. He could only see ten feet around him, so that as he sped through the water new scenes seemed to loom suddenly out of the incoming darkness: forests of rippling, tangled black weed, wide plains of mud littered with dull, glimmering stones. He swam deeper and deeper, out toward the middle of the lake, his eyes wide, staring through the eerily gray-lit water around him to the shadow beyond, where the water became opaque.

Small fish flickered past him like silver darts. Once or twice he thought he saw something larger moving ahead of him, but when he got nearer, he discovered it to be nothing but a large, blackened log, or a dense clump of weed. There was no sign of any of the other champions, merpeople, Aurora - nor, thankfully, the giant squid.

Light green weed stretched ahead of him as far as he could see, two feet deep, like a meadow of very overgrown grass.

I was staring unblinkingly ahead of me, trying to discern shapes through the gloom… and then, without warning, something grabbed hold of his ankle.

I twisted my body around and saw a grindylow, a small, horned water demon, poking out of the weed, its long fingers clutched tightly around my leg, its pointed fangs bared - I stuck my webbed hand quickly inside my robes and fumbled for my wand. By the time he had grasped it, two more grindylows had risen out of the weed, had seized handfuls of my robes, and were attempting to drag him down.

"Relashio!" I shouted,except that no sound came out… A large bubble issued from my mouth, and his wand, instead of sending sparks at the grindylows, pelted them with what seemed to be a jet of boiling water, for where it struck them, angry red patches appeared on their green skin. I pulled my ankle out of the grindylows grip and swam, as fast as I could, occasionally sending more jets of hot water over myhis shoulder at random; every now and then he felt one of the grindylows snatch at his foot again, and he kicked out, hard; finally, he felt his foot connect with a horned skull, and looking back, saw the dazed grindylow floating away, cross-eyed, while its fellows shook their fists at me and sank back into the weed.

I slowed down a little, slipped my wand back inside my robes, and looked around, listening again. He turned full circle in the water, the silence pressing harder than ever against his eardrums. He knew he must be even deeper in the lake now, but nothing was moving but the rippling weed.

"How are you getting on?"

I thought I was having a heart attack. I whipped around and saw Moaning Myrtle floating hazily in front of me, gazing at him through her thick, pearly glasses.

"Myrtle!" I tried to shout - but once again, nothing came out of my mouth but a very large bubble. Moaning Myrtle actually giggled.

"You want to try over there!" she said, pointing. "I won't come with you… I don't like them much, they always chase me when I get too close…"

I gave her the thumbs-up to show my thanks and set off once more, careful to swim a bit higher over the weed to avoid any more grindylows that might be lurking there.

I swam on for what felt like at least twenty minutes. I was passing over vast expanses of black mud now, which swirled murkily as I disturbed the water. Then, at long last, I heard a snatch of haunting mersong.

"_An hour long you_'_ll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took…"_

Iswam faster and soon saw a large rock emerge out of the muddy water ahead. It had paintings of merpeople on it; they were carrying spears and chasing what looked like the giant squid. I swam on past the rock, following the mersong.

"… _your time_'_s half gone, so tarry not_

_Lest what you seek stays here to rot…"_

A cluster of crude stone dwellings stained with algae loomed suddenly out of the gloom on all sides. Here and there at the dark windows, I saw faces… faces that bore no resemblance at all to the painting of the mermaid in the prefects' bathroom…

The merpeople had grayish skin and long, wild, dark green hair. Their eyes were yellow, as were their broken teeth, and they wore thick ropes of pebbles around their necks. They leered at me as I swam past; one or two of them emerged from their caves to watch him better, their powerful, silver fish tails beating the water, spears clutched in their hands.

I sped on, staring around, and soon the dwellings became more numerous; there were gardens of weed around some of them, and he even saw a pet grindylow tied to a stake outside one door.

Merpeople were emerging on all sides now, watching him eagerly, pointing at his webbed hands and gills, talking behind their hands to one another. I sped around a corner and a very strange sight met his eyes.

A whole crowd of merpeople was floating in front of the houses that lined what looked like a mer-version of a village square. A choir of merpeople was singing in the middle, calling the champions toward them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a gigantic merperson hewn from a boulder. Four people were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson.

Aurora was tied between Hermione and Cho Chang. There was also a girl who looked no older than eight, whose clouds of silvery hair made me feel sure that she was Fleur Delacour's sister. All four of them appeared to be in a very deep sleep. Their heads were lolling onto their shoulders, and fine streams of bubbles kept issuing from their mouths.

I sped toward the hostages, half expecting the merpeople to lower their spears and charge at him, but they did nothing. I swam directly to Aurora and grabbed her face between mu hands. She looked peaceful and it looked like she was unharmed. The ropes of weed tying the hostages to the statue were thick, slimy, and very strong. For a fleeting second he thought of the knife Sirius had bought him for Christmas - locked in his trunk in the castle a quarter of a mile away, no use to him whatsoever.

I looked around. Many of the merpeople surrounding them were carrying spears. He swam swiftly toward a seven-foot-tall merman with a long green beard and a choker of shark fangs and tried to mime a request to borrow the spear. The merman laughed and shook his head.

"We do not help," he said in a harsh, croaky voice.

"Come ON!" I said fiercely (but only bubbles issued from his mouth), and he tried to pull the spear away from the merman, but the merman yanked it back, still shaking his head and laughing.

Harry swirled around, staring about. Something sharp… anything…

There were rocks littering the lake bottom. I dived and snatched up a particularly jagged one and returned to the statue. I began to hack at the ropes binding Aurora, and after several minutes' hard work, they broke apart. Aurora floated, unconscious, a few inches above the lake bottom, drifting a little in the ebb of the water.

I looked around. There was no sign of any of the other champions. What were they playing at? Why didn't they hurry up?

I turned back to Hermione, raised the jagged rock, and began to hack at her bindings too –

At once, several pairs of strong gray hands seized me. Half a dozen mermen were pulling me away from Hermione, shaking their green-haired heads, and laughing.

"You take your own hostage," one of them said to him. "Leave the others…"

"No way!" I said furiously - but only two large bubbles came out.

"Your task is to retrieve your own friend… leave the others…"

"She's my friend too!" I yelled, gesturing toward Hermione, an enormous silver bubble emerging soundlessly from my lips. "And I don't want them to die either!"

Cho's head was on Hermiones shoulder; the small silver-haired girl was ghostly green and pale. I struggled to fight off the mermen, but they laughed harder than ever, holding me back. I looked wildly around. Where were the other champions? Would he have time to take Aurora to the surface and come back down for Hermione and the others? Would he be able to find them again? He looked down at his watch to see how much time was left - it had stopped working.

But then the merpeople around him pointed excitedly over his head. I looked up and saw Cedric swimming toward them. There was an enormous bubble around his head, which made his features look oddly wide and stretched.

"Got lost!" he mouthed, looking panic-stricken. "Fleur and Krum're coming now!"

Feeling enormously relieved, I watched Cedric pull a knife out of his pocket and cut Cho free. He pulled her upward and out of sight.

I looked around, waiting. Where were Fleur and Krum? Time was getting short, and according to the song, the hostages would be lost after an hour…

The merpeople started screeching animatedly. Those holding me loosened their grip, staring behind them. I turned and saw something monstrous cutting through the water toward them: a human body in swimming trunks with the head of a shark… It was Krum. He appeared to have transfigured himself- but badly.

The shark-man swam straight to Hermione and began snapping and biting at her ropes; the trouble was that Krum's new teeth were positioned very awkwardly for biting anything smaller than a dolphin, and I was quite sure that if Krum wasn't careful, he was going to rip Hermione in half. Darting forward I hit Krum hard on the shoulder and held up the jagged stone. Krum seized it and began to cut Hermione free. Within seconds, he had done it; he grabbed Hermione around the waist, and without a backward glance, began to rise rapidly with her toward the surface.

Now what? I thought desperately. If he could be sure that Fleur was coming… But still no sign. There was nothing to be done except…

He snatched up the stone, which Krum had dropped, but the mermen now closed in around Aurora and the little girl, shaking their heads at him. I pulled out my wand.

"Get out of the way!"

Only bubbles flew out of his mouth, but he had the distinct impression that the mermen had understood him, because they suddenly stopped laughing. Their yellowish eyes were fixed upon mywand, and they looked scared. There might be a lot more of them than there were of him, but I could tell, by the looks on their faces, that they knew no more magic than the giant squid did.

"You've got until three!" Ishouted; a great stream of bubbles burst from him, but he held up three fingers to make sure they got the message. "One…" (he put down a finger) "two…" (he put down a second one) - They scattered. I darted forward and began to hack at the ropes binding the small girl to the statue, and at last she was free. He seized the little girl around the waist, grabbed Aurora around the waist, and kicked off from the bottom.

It was very slow work. I could no longer use my webbed hands to propel myself forward; I worked my flippers furiously, but Aurora and Fleur's sister were like potato-filled sacks dragging me back down… I fixed my eyes skyward, though I knew I must still be very deep, the water above me was so dark…

Merpeople were rising with me. I could see them swirling around him with ease, watching him struggle through the water… Would they pull him back down to the depths when the time was up? Did they perhaps eat humans?

My legs were seizing up with the effort to keep swimming; his shoulders were aching horribly with the effort of dragging Aurora and the girl…

I was drawing breath with extreme difficulty. I could feel pain on the sides of his neck again… I was becoming very aware of how wet the water was in my mouth… yet the darkness was definitely thinning now… I could see daylight above him…

I kicked hard with my flippers and discovered that they were nothing more than feet… water was flooding through his mouth into his lungs… he was starting to feel dizzy, but he knew light and air were only ten feet above him… he had to get there… he had to…

I kicked my legs so hard and fast it felt as though my muscles were screaming in protest; his very brain felt waterlogged, he couldn't breathe, he needed oxygen, he had to keep going, he could not stop –

And then I felt my head break the surface of the lake; wonderful, cold, clear air was making his wet face sting; he gulped it down, feeling as though he had never breathed properly before, and, panting, pulled Aurora and the little girl up with me. All around me, wild, green-haired heads were emerging out of the water with me, but they were smiling at me.

The crowd in the stands was making a great deal of noise; shouting and screaming, they all seemed to be on their feet; Ihad the impression they thought that Aurora and the little girl might be dead, but they were wrong… both of them had opened their eyes; the girl looked scared and confused, but Aurora looked angry when she turned to me, and said, "I'm going to kill him!" And then she gave me a big kiss on the mouth, "Thanks for getting me out of there!" Then she spotted Fleur's sister. "What did you bring her for?"

"Fleur didn't turn up, I couldn't leave her," I panted.

"Harry, you prat," Aurora said, "you didn't take that song thing seriously, did you? Dumbledore wouldn't have let any of us drown! I knew this was going to happen. Oh he will be sorry when I'm trough with him!"

"The song said -"

"It was only to make sure you got back inside the time limit!" I said. "I hope you didn't waste time down there acting the hero!"

I felt both stupid and annoyed. It was all very well for Aurora; she'd been asleep, she hadn't felt how eerie it was down in the lake, surrounded by spear-carrying merpeople who'd looked more than capable of murder.

**Aurora's POV**

"C'mon," Harry said shortly, "help me with her, I don't think she can swim very well."

We pulled Fleur's sister through the water, back toward the bank where the judges stood watching, twenty merpeople accompanying them like a guard of honour, singing their horrible screechy songs.

I could see Madam Pomfrey fussing over Hermione, Krum, Cedric, and Chang, all of whom were wrapped in thick blankets.

Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman stood beaming at Harry and me from the bank as we swam nearer. Meanwhile Madame Maxime was trying to restrain Fleur Delacour, who was quite hysterical, fighting tooth and nail to return to the water.

"Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she 'urt?"

"She's fine!" I shouted at her, seeing Harry was unable to.

Dumbledore and Bagman were pulling Harry and me upright; Fleur had broken free of Madame Maxime and was hugging her sister.

"It was ze grindylows… zey attacked me… oh Gabrielle, I thought… I thought…"

"Come here, you two," said Madam Pomfrey. She seized Harry and me and pulled us over to Hermione and the others, wrapped us so tightly in a blanket that I felt as though I were in a straitjacket, and forced a measure of very hot potion down my throat.

"Harry, well done!" Hermione cried. "You did it, you found out how all by yourself!"

"Well …, Yeah, that's right," said Harry, raising his voice slightly.

"You haff a water beetle in your hair, Herm-own-ninny," said Krum. Ihad the impression that Krum was drawing her attention back onto himself; perhaps to remind her that he had just rescued her from the lake, but Hermione brushed away the beetle impatiently and said,

"You're well outside the time limit, though, Harry… Did it take you ages to find us?"

"No… I found you okay…"

I saw that he was feeling stupid that he took the song so seriously. I took pity on him and I put my arms around him, pulling him close. Looking into his emerald eyes, I said "Thank you for rescuing me, my hero!" and I kissed him hard on the lips. At first he was not fully responding but then his arms were around me and he pulled me closer to him. Someone cleared her throat behind us and we pulled apart. "Thanks," he mouthed to me and I gave him another peck on the lips.

Dumbledore was crouching at the water's edge, deep in conversation with what seemed to be the chief merperson, a particularly wild and ferocious-looking female. He was making the same sort of screechy noises that the merpeople made when they were above water; clearly, Dumbledore could speak Mermish. Finally he straightened up, turned to his fellow judges, and said, "A conference before we give the marks, I think."

The judges went into a huddle. Fleur had many cuts on her face and arms and her robes were torn, but she didn't seem to care, nor would she allow Madam Pomfrey to clean them.

"Look after Gabrielle," she told her, and then she turned to Harry. "You saved 'er," she said breathlessly. "Even though she was not your 'ostage."

"Yeah," said Harry.

Fleur bent down, kissed Harry twice on each cheek and then she turned to me, "And you too-you 'elped"

"Not really," I said but she didn't listen. Fleur swooped down on me too and kissed me .

Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice boomed out beside them, making us all jump, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows…"

"Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."

Applause from the stands.

"I deserved zero," said Fleur throatily, shaking her head.

"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour."

Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd; I saw Chang give Cedric a glowing look.

"We therefore award him forty-seven points."

My heart sank. If Cedric had been outside the time limit, Harry most certainly had been.

"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points."

Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very superior.

"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect," Bagman continued. "He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own."

Hermione and me both gave Harry half-exasperated, half-commiserating looks.

"Most of the judges," and here, Bagman gave Karkaroff a very nasty look, "feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However… Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points."

My stomach leapt - he was now tied for first place with Cedric. Hermione, caught by surprise, stared at Harry, then laughed and started applauding hard with the rest of the crowd.

"There you go, Harry!" She shouted over the noise. "You weren't being thick after all - you were showing moral fiber!"

Fleur was clapping very hard too, but Krum didn't look happy at all. He attempted to engage Hermione in conversation again, but she was too busy cheering Harry to listen. I gave him another kiss and a big smile.

"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," continued Bagman. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."

It was over. I thought dazedly, as Madam Pomfrey began herding the champions and hostages back to the castle to get into dry clothes… it was over, Harry had got through… we didn't have to worry about anything now until June the twenty-fourth…

**A/N: as you could see/read, I kept the part from Harry. Otherwise, it would be a very short chapter. When it's needed, this will happen ;) there are already a lot of plans in my head. Hope you liked it! Let me know what you think!**


	23. Seeing dad

**A/N: I don't own anything**

Enjoy!

**Chapter 23: Seeing dad**

One of the best things about the aftermath of the second task was that Fleur and her friends were a lot nicer to us now. Saving her sister might have helped with that.

As we entered March the weather became drier, but cruel winds skinned our hands and faces every time we went out onto the grounds. There were delays in the post because the owls kept being blown off course. The brown owl that Harry had sent to dad with the dates of the Hogsmeade weekend turned up at breakfast on Friday morning with half its feathers sticking up the wrong way; Harry had no sooner torn off dad's reply than it took flight, clearly afraid it was going to be sent outside again. Dad's letter was almost as short as the previous one.

_Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can._

"He hasn't come back to Hogsmeade?" said Ron incredulously.

"It looks like it, doesn't it?" said Hermione.

"I can't believe him," said Harry tensely, "if he's caught…"

"He never thinks about himself, he's way to careless…" I said, shaking my head. Why couldn't I have a normal dad and not a convicted criminal.

"Made it so far, though, hasn't he?" said Ron. "And it's not like the place is swarming with dementors anymore."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing in a huddle outside the classroom door with Pansy Parkinson's gang of Slytherin girls. All of them were looking at something I couldn't see and sniggering heartily. Pansys pug-like face peered excitedly around Goyle's broad back as Harry, Ron, Hermione and I approached.

"There they are, there they are!" she giggled, and the knot of Slytherins broke apart. I saw that Pansy had a magazine in her hands - Witch Weekly. The moving picture on the front showed a curly-haired witch who was smiling toothily and pointing at a large sponge cake with her wand.

"You might find something to interest you in there, Granger!" Pansy said loudly, and she threw the magazine at Hermione, who caught it, looking startled. At that moment, the dungeon door opened, and Snape beckoned them all inside.

Hermione, Harry, Ron and I headed for a table at the back of the dungeon as usual. Once Snape had turned his back on us to write up the ingredients of today's potion on the blackboard, Hermione hastily rifled through the magazine under the desk. At last, in the center pages, Hermione found what we were looking for.

Harry, Ron and I leaned in closer. A color photograph of Harry headed a short piece entitled:

Harry Potter's Secret Heartache

A boy like no other, perhaps - yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found love at Hogwarts with Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss.

Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl."

However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys' interest.

"She's really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it."

Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate.

But not forget about the other girl that has stolen Mister Potters heart. None other than the Black girl has swiped away The-Boy-Who-Lived. They were seen kissing after the Second Task. Black is an ordinary looing girl with a dark past, present and future. Let's not forget about her father and what he has done. Is it safe for Harry Potter to be around this girl?

Sources tell me that Black was seen at Harry Potter's side the next day after the break up with heartthrob and other Champion Cedric Diggory. A very public scene was made, but what is true? Her version is that Mister Diggory cheated on her. I have trouble believing this and I believe it's the other way around.

With Black and Granger around Harry Potter, who knows what could happen to the sweet boy. I hope that he comes to his senses and finds new friends and new love interests.

"I told you!" Ron hissed at Hermione as we stared down at the article. "I told you not to annoy Rita Skeeter! She's made you out to be some sort of- of scarlet woman!"

Hermione stopped looking astonished and snorted with laughter. "Scarlet woman?" she repeated, shaking with suppressed giggles as she looked around at Ron.

"It's what my mum calls them," Ron muttered, his ears going red.

"If that's the best Rita can do, she's losing her touch," said Hermione, still giggling, as she threw Witch Weekly onto the empty chair beside her. "What a pile of old rubbish."

"I agree. And what is this about me cheating on Cedric? Everybody who was there heard him admitting it. God, she really needs to check her sources," I said.

Hermione and I looked over at the Slytherins, who were all watching us and Harry closely across the room to see if we had been upset by the article. Hermione gave them a sarcastic smile and a wave and I gave them smirk and a wink, and we, Harry, and Ron started unpacking the ingredients they would need for their Wit-Sharpening Potion.

"There's something funny, though," said Hermione ten minutes later, holding her pestle suspended over a bowl of scarab beetles. "How could Rita Skeeter have known…?"

"Known what?" said Ron quickly. "You haven't been mixing up Love Potions, have you?"

"Don't be stupid," Hermione snapped, starting to pound up her beetles again. "No, it's just… how did she know Viktor asked me to visit him over the summer?"

Hermione blushed scarlet as she said this and determinedly avoided Ron's eyes.

"What?" said Ron, dropping his pestle with a loud clunk. Ooh, someones jealous.

"He asked me right after he'd pulled me out of the lake," Hermione muttered. "After he'd got rid of his shark's head. Madam Pomfrey gave us both blankets and then he sort of pulled me away from the judges so they wouldn't hear, and he said, if I wasn't doing anything over the summer, would I like to -"

"And what did you say?" said Ron, who had picked up his pestle and was grinding it on the desk, a good six inches from his bowl, because he was looking at Hermione.

"And he did say he'd never felt the same way about anyone else," Hermione went on, going so red now that Harry could almost feel the heat coming from her, "but how could Rita Skeeter have heard him? She wasn't there… or was she? Maybe she has got an Invisibility Cloak; maybe she sneaked onto the grounds to watch the second task…"

"And what did you say?" Ron repeated, pounding his pestle down so hard that it dented the desk.

"Well, I was too busy seeing whether Harry and Aurora were okay to-"

"Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is Miss Granger," said an icy voice right behind us, and all four of us jumped, "I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Snape had glided over to our desk while we were talking. The whole class was now looking around at us; Malfoy took the opportunity to flash POTTER STINKS across the dungeon at Harry. I rolled my eyes at him.

"Ah… reading magazines under the table as well?" Snape added, snatching up the copy of Witch Weekly. "A further ten points from Gryffindor… oh but of course…" Snapes black eyes glittered as they fell on Rita Skeeter's article. "Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings…"

The dungeon rang with the Slytherins' laughter, and an unpleasant smile curled Snape's thin mouth. To Harry's and my fury, he began to read the article aloud.

"'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache… dear, dear. Potter, what's ailing you now? 'A boy like no other, perhaps…'"

Harry was turning red. Snape was pausing at the end of every sentence to allow the Slytherins a hearty laugh. The article sounded ten times worse when read by Snape. Even Hermione was blushing scarlet now.

"'… I hope that he comes to his senses and finds new friends and new love interests.' How very touching," sneered Snape, rolling up the magazine to continued gales of laughter from the Slytherins.

"Well, I think I had better separate the four of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Parkinson. Black, next Miss Greengrass and Potter - that table in front of my desk. Move. Now."

Gathering all my things and throwing one last glance at the others, I went to sit next to Greengrass. She made room for me and we continued in silence.

"Just so you know, what Snape did was unfair to you guys but it's your own fault for leaving that magazine out in the open." A voice said next to me.

With my mouth hanging open, I turned towards Greengrass. "What?"

"You heard me," she said.

"Yeah, it's just, it sounded like you defended us."

Her blue eyes turned to mine: "not every Slytherin is like Pansy or Draco, you know."

"Miss Greengrass, Black, why aren't we working?" Snape said from behind us.

"Black here kept going on how it was unfair and I just told her to be quite so I could work in peace, but she didn't listen. I hope this doesn't affect my grade, her sitting next to me, seeing I didn't do anything wrong!" Greengrass said.

"Ofcourse not, 10 point's from Gryffindor. Be quite or it will be detention Black." And with that he walked away, back to the front where Harry was sitting looking at me.

"You ok?" he mouthed.

"Yes, turn around," I mouthed back.

"And here I thought we were starting to get along, Greengrass," I whispered.

"I said it was unfair, Black, not that we were friends. Beside I'm still a Slytherin," she whispered back.

A small smile grazed my face, "Good the know. The name is Aurora, seeing we are no longer enemy's yet still not friends."

"Oh, fine. Daphne, but only in privat. Dare to call me that any other time and you will be sorry!"

"Noted, nice to meet you, friend," I said, glancing at her.

She rolled her eyes at me but I thought I saw the corners from her mouth going up.

I sneeked a peak at Harry and saw that he was having a rough time. Snape was talking to him and it was starting to get to Harry. Don't do anything foolish, I thought to myself.

There was a knock on the dungeon door.

"Enter," said Snape in his usual voice.

The class looked around as the door opened. Professor Karkaroff came in. Everyone watched him as he walked up toward Snape's desk. He was twisting his finger around his goatee and looking agitated.

I couldn't hear what they were saying but Harry was watching with interest so I would hear all about it when class was over.

Karkaroff hovered behind Snape's desk for the rest of the double period. He seemed intent on preventing Snape from slipping away at the end of class. Harry knocked over his bottle of armadillo bile with two minutes to go to the bell, which gave him an excuse to duck down behind his cauldron and mop up while the rest of the class moved noisily toward the door. Smart boy! I waited outside the classroom for him. Daphne walked by and gave the tiniest nod so only I would notice. Her reputation as the Ice princess was founded.

Karkaroff strode out of the dungeon. He looked both worried and angry. A second later Harry stormed out and together we went to find Hermione and Ron so Harry could tell what he just witnessed.

We left the castle at noon the next day to find a weak silver sun shining down upon the grounds. The weather was milder than it had been all year, and by the time we arrived in Hogsmeade, all four of us had taken off our cloaks and thrown them over our shoulders. The food dad had told us to bring was in Harry's bag; we had sneaked a dozen chicken legs, a loaf of bread, and a flask of pumpkin juice from the lunch table.

We went into Gladrags Wizardwear to buy a present for Dobby, where we had fun selecting the most lurid socks we could find, including a pair patterned with flashing gold and silver stars, and another that screamed loudly when they became too smelly. Then, at half past one, we made ror way up the High Street, past Dervish and Banges, and out toward the edge of the village.

I had never been in this direction before. The winding lane was leading us out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade. The cottages were fewer here, and their gardens larger; they were walking toward the foot of the mountain in whose shadow Hogsmeade lay. Harry took hold of my hand and pulled me close to him. Looking at me with his beautiful eyes, I saw that he was excited. I could blame him, I felt the same way. I was finally seeing my dad again. Giving Harry a kiss, we turned a corner and saw a stile at the end of the lane. Waiting for us, it's front paws on the topmost bar, was a very large, shaggy black dog, which was carrying some newspapers in its mouth and looking very familiar…

"Hey dad," I said when we had reached him.

The black dog sniffed Harry's bag eagerly, looked at our clasped hands and wagged its tail once, then turned and began to trot away from us across the scrubby patch of ground that rose to meet the rocky foot of the mountain. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I climbed over the stile and followed.

Dad led us to the very foot of the mountain, where the ground was covered with boulders and rocks. It was easy for him, with his four paws, but Harry, Ron, Hermione and I were soon out of breath. We followed dad higher, up onto the mountain itself. For nearly half an hour we climbed a steep, winding, and stony path, following dad's wagging tail, sweating in the sun. The only thing that made me keep going was the fact that I was going to see dad and Harry, still holding my hand.

Then, at last, dad slipped out of sight, and when we reached the place where he had vanished, we saw a narrow fissure in the rock. We squeezed into it and found ourselves in a cool, dimly lit cave. Tethered at the end of it, one end of his rope around a large rock, was Buckbeak the hippogriff. Half gray horse, half giant eagle, Buckbeak's fierce orange eye flashed at the sight of us. All four of us bowed low to him, and after regarding us imperiously for a moment, Buckbeak bent his scaly front knees and allowed Hermione to rush forward and stroke his feathery neck. I, however, was looking at the black dog, which had just turned into my father.

Dad was wearing ragged gray robes; the same ones he had been wearing when he had left Azkaban. His black hair was longer than it had been when he had appeared in the fire, and it was untidy and matted once more. He looked very thin.

I rushed to him, right into his waiting arms. "Oh my sweet, beautiful star. How I missed you!"

I immediately let him go, stepping away from him. "God, dad, you stink!" I said, turning my nose up.

He laughed, "and where would I be able to get a shower, young lady?"

"Outside, in the rain, that would help. Losing those clothes to! I know uncle Moony isn't as fashionable like you, but it's still better that this," I said, pointing to him.

He laughed again and pulled me close again. I hold my breath and hugged him close. I missed him so much.

He let me go and turned to Harry, he pulled him close and let him go again.

"Chicken!" he said hoarsely.

Harry pulled open his bag and handed over the bundle of chicken legs and bread.

"Thanks," dad said, opening it, grabbing a drumstick, sitting down on the cave floor, and tearing off a large chunk with his teeth. "I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself." He grinned up at Harry and me, but Harry returned the grin only reluctantly.

"What're you doing here, Sirius?" he said.

"Fulfilling my duty as godfather and father," dad said, gnawing on the chicken bone in a very doglike way. "Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray." He was still grinning, but seeing the anxiety in Harrys and my face, said more seriously, "I want to be on the spot. Your last letter… well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried."

He nodded at the yellowing Daily Prophets on the cave floor, and Ron picked them up and unfolded them. I, however, continued to stare at dad.

"How much I love seeing you again, but what if they catch you? What if you're seen?"

"You four and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus," dad said, shrugging, and continuing to devour the chicken leg.

Ron nudged Harry and passed him the Daily Prophets. I looked over his shoulder. There were two: The first bore the headline Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch, the second, Ministry Witch Still Missing-Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved.

Harry and I scanned the story about Crouch. Phrases jumped out at me: hasn't been seen in public since November… house appears deserted… St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries decline comment… Ministry refuses to confirm rumors of critical illness…

"They're making it sound like he's dying," said Harry slowly. "But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here…"

"My brothers Crouch's personal assistant," Ron informed dad. "He says Crouch is suffering from overwork."

"Mind you, he did look ill, last time I saw him up close," said Harry slowly, still reading the story. "The night my name came out of the goblet…"

"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" said Hermione, an edge to her voice. She was stroking Buckbeak, who was crunching up Sirius's chicken bones. "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now - bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him."

"Hermione's obsessed with house-elfs," Ron muttered to dad, casting Hermione a dark look. Dad, however, looked interested.

"Crouch sacked his house-elf?"

"Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup," said Harry, and he launched into the story of the Dark Mark's appearance, and Winky being found with Harrys wand clutched in her hand, and Mr. Crouch's fury. When Harry had finished, dad was on his feet again and had started pacing up and down the cave.

"Let me get this straight," he said after a while, brandishing a fresh chicken leg. "You first saw the elf in the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?"

"Right," we said together.

"But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?"

"No," said Harry. "I think he said he'd been too busy."

Dad paced all around the cave in silence. Then he said, "Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?"

"Erm…" Harry thought hard. "No," he said finally. "I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars."

I stared at dad. "Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole Harry's wand in the Top Box?"

"It's possible," dad said.

"Winky didn't steal that wand!" Hermione insisted.

"The elf wasn't the only one in that box," dad said, his brow furrowed as he continued to pace.

"Who else was sitting behind you?"

"Loads of people," said Harry. "Some Bulgarian ministers… Cornelius Fudge… the Malfoys…"

"The Malfoys!" said Ron suddenly, so loudly that his voice echoed all around the cave, and Buckbeak tossed his head nervously. "I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!"

"Anyone else?" dad said.

"No one," said Harry.

"Yes, there was, there was Ludo Bagman," Hermione reminded him.

"Oh yeah…"

"I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps," dad said, still pacing. "What's he like?"

"He's okay," said Harry. "He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament."

"Does he, now?" dad said, frowning more deeply. "I wonder why he'd do that?"

"Says he's taken a liking to me," said Harry.

"Hmm," dad said, looking thoughtful.

"We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared," Hermione told dad."Remember?" she said to Harry, Ron and me.

"Yeah, but he didn't stay in the forest, did he?" said Ron. "The moment we told him about the riot, he went off to the campsite."

"How d'you know?" Hermione shot back. "How d'you know where he Disapparated to?"

"Come off it," said Ron incredulously. "Are you saying you reckon Ludo Bagman conjured the Dark Mark?"

"It's more likely he did it than Winky," said Hermione stubbornly.

"Told you," said Ron, looking meaningfully at dad, "told you she's obsessed with house -"

But dad held up a hand to silence Ron.

"When the Dark Mark had been conjured, and the elf had been discovered holding Harry's wand, what did Crouch do?"

"Went to look in the bushes," said Harry, "but there wasn't anyone else there."

"Of course," dad muttered, pacing up and down, "of course, he'd want to pin it on anyone but his own elf… and then he sacked her?"

"Yes," said Hermione in a heated voice, "he sacked her, just because she hadn't stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled -"

"Hermione, will you give it a rest with the elf!" said Ron.

Dad shook his head and said, "She's got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a mans like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."

He ran a hand over his unshaven face, evidently thinking hard.

"All these absences of Barty Crouch's… he goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too… It's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak."

"D'you know Crouch, then?" said Harry.

Dad's face darkened. He suddenly looked as menacing as he had the night when I first met him, the night when Harry still believed Sirius to be a murderer.

"Oh I know Crouch all right," he said quietly. "He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban - without a trial."

"What?" said Ron and Hermione together.

"Oh, I knew I had a reason to hate that guy!" I said, probably looking murderous.

"You're kidding!" said Harry.

"No, I'm not," dad said, taking another great bite of chicken. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione shook their heads. I did know, but I never realized what it meant for dad.

"He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic," dad said. "He's a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical - and power-hungry. Oh never a Voldemort supporter," he said, reading the look on Harrys face. "No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side… well, you wouldn't understand… you're too young…"

"That's what my dad said at the World Cup," said Ron, with a trace of irritation in his voice. "Try us, why don't you?"

A grin flashed across dad's thin face.

"All right, I'll try you…" He walked once up the cave, back again, and then said, "Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing… the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere… panic… confusion… that's how it used to be.

"Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning - I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemorts supporters. The Aurors were given new powers - powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn't the only one who was handed straight to the dementors without trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side.

He had his supporters, mind you - plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened…" dad smiled grimly. "Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."

"Crouch's son was caught?" gasped Hermione.

"Yep," dad said, throwing his chicken bone to Buckbeak, flinging himself back down on the ground beside the loaf of bread, and tearing it in half. "Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while… gotten to know his own son."

He began to wolf down large pieces of bread.

"Was his son a Death Eater?" I asked.

"No idea," dad said, still stuffing down bread. "I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters – but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf."

"Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione whispered.

Dad let out a laugh that was much more like a bark.

"Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again - doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy… then he sent him straight to Azkaban."

"He gave his own son to the dementors?" asked Harry quietly.

"That's right," dad said, and he didn't look remotely amused now. "I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though… they all went quiet in the end… except when they shrieked in their sleep…"

For a moment, the deadened look in dad's eyes became more pronounced than ever, as though shutters had closed behind them. I went to sit next to him and put my arm around him. He gave me a grateful smile and a little squeeze.

"So he's still in Azkaban?" Harry said.

"No," dad said dully. "No, he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in."

"He died?"

"He wasn't the only one," dad said bitterly. "Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his sons body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it."

Dad threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his mouth and instead picked up the flask of pumpkin juice and drained it.

"So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made," he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic… next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

There was a long silence. I was thinking of the way Crouch's eyes had bulged as he'd looked down at his disobedient house-elf back in the wood at the Quidditch World Cup. This, then, must have been why Crouch had overreacted to Winky being found beneath the Dark Mark. It had brought back memories of his son, and the old scandal, and his fall from grace at the Ministry.

"Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards," Harry told dad.

"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him," dad said, nodding. "If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater."

"And he sneaked up here to search Snape's office!" said Ron triumphantly, looking at Hermione.

"Yes, and that doesn't make sense at all," dad said.

"Yeah, it does!" said Ron excitedly, but dad shook his head.

"Listen, if Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him."

"So you think Snape could be up to something, then?" asked Harry, but Hermione broke in.

"Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape -"

"Oh give it a rest, Hermione," said Ron impatiently. "I know Dumbledores brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn't fool him -"

"Why did Snape save Harry's life in the first year, then? Why didn't he just let him die?"

"I dunno - maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out-"

"What d'you think, Sirius?" Harry said loudly, and Ron and Hermione stopped bickering to listen.

"I think they've both got a point," dad said, looking thoughtfully at Ron and Hermione. "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was," dad added, and Harry and Ron grinned at each other. Boys! "Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters."

Dad held up his fingers and began ticking off names.

"Rosier and Wilkes - they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges - they're a married couple - they're in Azkaban. Avery – from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse - he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater - not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape s certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble."

"Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet," said Ron.

"Yeah, you should've seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday!" said Harry quickly. "Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he says Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn't see what it was."

"He showed Snape something on his arm?" dad said, looking frankly bewildered. He ran his fingers distractedly through his filthy hair, then shrugged again.

"Well, I've no idea what that's about… but if Karkaroff s genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for answers…"dad stared at the cave wall, then made a grimace of frustration.

"There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort."

"Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snapes office then?" said Ron stubbornly.

"Well," dad said slowly, "I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defense Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I'm not sure he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising. I'll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though… he's a different matter… is he really ill? If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape's office? And if he's not… what's he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up in the Top Box? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?"

Dad lapsed into silence, still staring at the cave wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky floor, looking for bones he might have overlooked. Finally, Sirius looked up at Ron.

"You say your brother s Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?"

"I can try," said Ron doubtfully. "Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch."

"And you might try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it," dad said, gesturing to the second copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Bagman told me they hadn't," said Harry.

"Yes, he's quoted in the article in there," dad said, nodding at the paper. "Blustering on about how bad Bertha's memory is. Well, maybe she's changed since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn't forgetful at all - quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into a lot of trouble; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a liability at the Ministry of Magic… maybe that's why Bagman didn't bother to look for her for so long…"

Dad heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes. "What's the time?"

"It's half past three," said Hermione.

"Alright, you'd better get back to school. But before you go. Aurora, Harry, something you would like to tell me? dad said while looking at u smiling.

Harry blushed and smiled, I went over to him and grabbed his hand again. "We're dating," I said.

Dad smiled the biggest smile I have seen so far, it might him look younger. "well It's about time! When did this happen?"

"Yule ball," Harry said.

"So how beautiful she was and couldn't keep your hands of her huh, just like your father," dad laughed.

"Dad!" I said blushing.

"No, nothing like that, well not exactly like that," Harry muttered.

"Well, you have my blessing. We always said you were made for eachother. Even when you were kids, you would hands," dad said looking proud at us.

"Thanks dad," I said and I gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheeck.

"Thanks Sirius!" Harry said and went to hug him.

"Now Harry, if you ever hurt her, you will have to do with me, Moony and probably her to! We know a lot of hexes and you will never know what hit you. I don't care if you are my godson, I will make sure you will never have an heir, if you hurt her!" dad said to Harry looking him in the eyes.

Harry gulped: "Yes sir!"

"Dad!" I said angry.

"What, honey, it's a fathers job to make sure nothing happens to his daughter!" dad said with a smile.

"Fine, whatever, it's time for us to go!" I said and I pulled Harry away from dad, not trusting him.

Dad nodded and turned al seriously: "Now listen…" He looked particularly hard at Harry and me. "I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."

"No one's tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows," Harry said, but dad scowled at him. I gave him slap against his head.

"I don't care… I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?"

He handed Harry the empty napkin and flask and went to pat Buckbeak good-bye.

"I'll walk to the edge of the village with you," dad said, "see if I can scrounge another paper."

He transformed into the great black dog before we left the cave, and we walked back down the mountainside with him, across the boulder-strewn ground, and back to the stile. Here he allowed each of usto pat him on the head, before turning and setting off at a run around the outskirts of the village. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I made our way back into Hogsmeade and up toward Hogwarts.

"Wonder if Percy knows all that stuff about Crouch?" Ron said as we walked up the drive to the castle. "But maybe he doesn't care… It'd probably just make him admire Crouch even more. Yeah, Percy loves rules. He'd just say Crouch was refusing to break them for his own son."

"Percy would never throw any of his family to the Dementors," said Hermione severely.

"I don't know," said Ron. "If he thought we were standing in the way of his career… Percy's really ambitious, you know…"

We walked up the stone steps into the entrance hall, where the delicious smells of dinner wafted toward us from the Great Hall.

"Poor old Snuffles," said Ron, breathing deeply. "He must really like you. Harry, Aurora… Imagine having to live off rats."

**A/N: sorry again for the very late update! School is being an pain in the ass! Hope you like it, let me know.**


	24. House-elves, Pus and Bugs

**A/N: I don't own anything**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 24: House-elves, Pus and Bugs**

We went up to the Owlery after breakfast on Sunday to send a letter to Percy, asking, as dad had suggested, whether he had seen Mr. Crouch lately. We used Hedwig, because it had been so long since she'd had a job. When we had watched her fly out of sight through the Owlery window, we proceeded down to the kitchen to give Dobby his new socks.

The house-elves gave us a very cheery welcome, bowing and curtsying and bustling around making tea again. Dobby was ecstatic about his present.

"Harry Potter is too good to Dobby!" he squeaked, wiping large tears out of his enormous eyes.

"You saved my life with that gillyweed, Dobby, you really did," said Harry.

"No chance of more of those eclairs, is there?" said Ron, who was looking around at the beaming and bowing house-elves.

"You've just had breakfast!" said Hermione irritably, but a great silver platter of eclairs was already zooming toward them, supported by four elves.

"We should get some stuff to send up to Snuffles," Harry muttered.

"Good idea," said Ron. "Give Pig something to do. You couldn't give us a bit of extra food, could you?" he said to the surrounding elves, and they bowed delightedly and hurried off to get some more.

"Do you really think that Pig is going to carry all that? He's not that big," I said smiling. Ron just gave me a glare.

"Dobby, where's Winky?" said Hermione, who was looking around.

"Winky is over there by the fire, miss," said Dobby quietly, his ears drooping slightly.

"Oh dear," said Hermione as she spotted Winky.

I looked over at the fireplace too. Winky was sitting on the same stool as last time, but she had allowed herself to become so filthy that she was not immediately distinguishable from the smoke-blackened brick behind her. Her clothes were ragged and unwashed. She was clutching a bottle of butterbeer and swaying slightly on her stool, staring into the fire. As we watched her, she gave an enormous hiccup.

"Winky is getting through six bottles a day now," Dobby whispered to Harry and me.

"Well, it's not strong, that stuff," Harry said.

"It is for house-elves, Harry." I said.

Winky hiccuped again. The elves who had brought the eclairs gave her disapproving looks as they returned to work.

"Winky is pining, Harry Potter," Dobby whispered sadly. "Winky wants to go home. Winky still thinks Mr. Crouch is her master, sir, and nothing Dobby says will persuade her that Professor Dumbledore is her master now."

"Hey, Winky," said Harry, walking over to her, and bending down, "you don't know what Mr. Crouch might be up to, do you? Because he's stopped turning up to judge the Triwizard Tournament."

Winky's eyes flickered. Her enormous pupils focused on Harry. She swayed slightly again and then said, "M - Master is stopped - hic - coming?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "we haven't seen him since the first task. The Daily Prophet's saying he's ill."

Winky swayed some more, staring blurrily at Harry.

"Master- hic- ill?" Her bottom lip began to tremble.

"But we're not sure if that's true," said Hermione quickly.

"Master is needing his - his - Winky!" whimpered the elf. "Master cannot - hic - manage - hic - all by himself…"

"Other people manage to do their own housework, you know, Winky," Hermione said severely.

"Hermione!" I hissed.

"Winky - hic - is not only - hic - doing housework for Mr. Crouch!" Winky squeaked indignantly, swaying worse than ever and slopping butterbeer down her already heavily stained blouse. "Master is - hic - trusting Winky with - hic – the most important - hic - the most secret…"

"What?" said Harry.

But Winky shook her head very hard, spilling more butterbeer down herself.

"Winky keeps - hic - her master's secrets," she said mutinously, swaying very heavily now, frowning up at Harry with her eyes crossed. "You is - hic - nosing, you is."

"Winky must not talk like that to Harry Potter!" said Dobby angrily. "Harry Potter is brave and noble and Harry Potter is not nosy!"

"He is nosing - hic - into my master's - hic - private and secret - hic - Winky is a good house-elf- hic - Winky keeps her silence - hic - people trying to - hic – pry and poke - hic -"

Winky's eyelids drooped and suddenly, without warning, she slid off her stool into the hearth, snoring loudly. The empty bottle of butterbeer rolled away across the stone-flagged floor. Half a dozen house-elves came hurrying forward, looking disgusted. One of them picked up the bottle; the others covered Winky with a large checked tablecloth and tucked the ends in neatly, hiding her from view.

"We is sorry you had to see that, sirs and misses!" squeaked a nearby elf, shaking his head and looking very ashamed. "We is hoping you will not judge us all by Winky, sirs and misses!"

"She's unhappy!" said Hermione, exasperated. "Why don't you try and cheer her up instead of covering her up?"

"Begging your pardon, miss," said the house-elf, bowing deeply again, "but house-elves has no right to be unhappy when there is work to be done and masters to be served."

"Oh for heavens sake!" Hermione cried. "Listen to me, all of you! You've got just as much right as wizards to be unhappy! You've got the right to wages and holidays and proper clothes, you don't have to do everything you're told - look at Dobby!"

"Miss will please keep Dobby out of this," Dobby mumbled, looking scared. The cheery smiles had vanished from the faces of the house-elves around the kitchen. They were suddenly looking at Hermione as though she were mad and dangerous.

"We has your extra food!" squeaked an elf at Harry's elbow, and he shoved a large ham, a dozen cakes, and some fruit into Harry's arms. "Good-bye!"

The house-elves crowded around us and began shunting us out of the kitchen, many little hands pushing in the smalls of our backs.

"Thank you for the socks, Harry Potter!" Dobby called miserably from the hearth, where he was standing next to the lumpy tablecloth that was Winky.

"You couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you, Hermione?" said Ron angrily as the kitchen door slammed shut behind them. "They won't want us visiting them now! We could've tried to get more stuff out of Winky about Crouch!"

"Oh as if you care about that!" scoffed Hermione. "You only like coming down here for the food!"

"Hermione, I share your views but these are House-elves, they are used to this. They are happy when they are working. I know it's hard for you to understand but that's the way it is. Leave them alone, you won't help them this way!" I said to her.

She tried to open our mouth, looking angry at me.

"Drop it, Hermione! I won't fight about this with you!" I said staring in her eyes. There had to be something because she looked scared and then she nodded. Must be the Black blood coming through.

It was an irritable sort of day after that. Harry and I got so tired of Ron and Hermione sniping at each other over their homework in the common room that we took dad's food up to the Owlery that evening on our own.

Pigwidgeon was much too small to carry an entire ham up to the mountain by himself (what did I tell Ron!), so Harry enlisted the help of two school screech owls as well. When they had set off into the dusk, looking extremely odd carrying the large package between them Harry and I leaned on the windowsill, looking out at the grounds, at the dark, rustling treetops of the Forbidden Forest, and the rippling sails of the Durmstrang ship. An eagle owl flew through the coil of smoke rising from Hagrids chimney; it soared toward the castle, around the Owlery, and out of sight.

Looking down, I saw Hagrid digging energetically in front of his cabin. I wondered what he was doing; it looked as though he were making a new vegetable patch. As I watched, Madame Maxime emerged from the Beauxbatons carriage and walked over to Hagrid. She appeared to be trying to engage him in conversation. Hagrid leaned upon his spade, but did not seem keen to prolong their talk, because Madame Maxime returned to the carriage shortly afterward.

"Looks like Hagrid doesn't want to talk to her anymore," I said to Harry.

"Yeah," he said and turned to me. His emerald eyes were blazing in the evening light. "I don't feel like talking to. It's been a long time since we had some time alone."

Turning around, I smiled sweetly at him, "You're right, anything you want to do?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, this," he said and he gathered me in his arms and pulled me close. Ours lips met in the middle. Eventhough we had kissed many times, it still feels like it's the first time and fireworks goes off.

We stayed there hugging and kissing until the darkness swallowed us both and the owls around us began to awake, swooshing past us into the night. I never slept better in my life.

By breakfast the next day Ron's and Hermione's bad moods had burnt out, and to our relief, Ron's dark predictions that the house-elves would send substandard food up to the Gryffindor table because Hermione had insulted them proved false; the food were quite as good as usual.

When the post owls arrived, Hermione looked up eagerly; she seemed to be expecting something.

"Percy won't've had time to answer yet," said Ron. "We only sent Hedwig yesterday."

"No, it's not that," said Hermione. "I've taken out a subscription to the Daily Prophet. I'm getting sick of finding everything out from the Slytherins."

"Good thinking!" said Harry, also looking up at the owls. "Hey, Hermione, I think you're in luck -"

A gray owl was soaring down toward Hermione.

"It hasn't got a newspaper, though," she said, looking disappointed. "It's -"

But to her bewilderment, the gray owl landed in front of her plate, closely followed by four barn owls, a brown owl, and a tawny.

"How many subscriptions did you take out?" I asked, seizing Hermione's goblet before it was knocked over by the cluster of owls, all of whom were jostling close to her, trying to deliver their own letter first.

"What on earth -?" Hermione said, taking the letter from the gray owl, opening it, and starting to read. "Oh really!" she sputtered, going rather red.

"What's up?" said Ron.

"It,'s - oh how ridiculous -"

She thrust the letter at me, it was not handwritten, but composed from pasted letters that seemed to have been cut out of the Daily Prophet.

YOU ARE A WICKED GIRL. HARRY POTTER DESERVES BETTER. GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM MUGGLE.

"They're all like it!" said Hermione desperately, opening one letter after another. "'Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you… ' 'You deserve to be boiled in frog spawn… ' Ouch!"

She had opened the last envelope, and yellowish-green liquid smelling strongly of petrol gushed over her hands, which began to erupt in large yellow boils.

"Undiluted bubotuber pus!" said Ron, picking up the envelope gingerly and sniffing it.

"Ow!" said Hermione, tears starting in her eyes as she tried to rub the pus off her hands with a napkin, but her fingers were now so thickly covered in painful sores that it looked as though she were wearing a pair of thick, knobbly gloves.

"You'd better get up to the hospital wing," said Harry as the owls around Hermione took flight. "We'll tell Professor Sprout where you've gone…"

"I warned her!" said Ron as Hermione hurried out of the Great Hall, cradling her hands. "I warned her not to annoy Rita Skeeter! Look at this one…" He read out one of the letters Hermione had left behind: "'I read In Witch Weekly about how you are playing Harry Potter false and that boy has had enough hardship and I will be sending you a curse by next post as soon as I can find a big enough envelope.' Blimey, she'd better watch out for herself."

"Hey Aurora, don't take this the wrong way, but why aren't you getting any bad mail?" Ron asked me.

"As the heir of the Black family, things like this are taken care of. My father had a good understanding with the Goblins and they take care of our mails that will harm us. It's not free offcourse but it beats getting to the hospital everyday. Seeing Hermione is muggleborn, she doesn't have this kind of protection. All pureblood families have this, even the Malfoys. As long as you pay enough, the Goblins do anything for you, well within reason. You probably could get it to Harry, if you want." I said.

The boys were just staring at me, rolling my eyes, I got up, gave Harry a peck and walked over to Neville so we got walk together. It would take some time for the boys to get up and I don't want to be late.

Hermione didn't turn up for Herbology. As we left the greenhouse for their Care of Magical Creatures class, we saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle descending the stone steps of the castle. Pansy Parkinson was whispering and giggling behind them with her gang of Slytherin girls. Catching sight of Harry, Pansy called, "Potter, have you split up with your girlfriend? Why was she so upset at breakfast?"

"Parkinson, are you blind?" I asked concerned.

Taken back, she said no.

"You sure? Because last time I checked, I'm not upset. I'm very happy with Harry, thank you. it's really nice of you to be concerned about us, but maybe you should worry about your on love life. Oh wait, you don't have on," I said and I turned around, leaving her seething. The boys laughed and I heard the other gryffindors clapping for me.

Harry pulled me close, gave me a kiss and said thank you.

Hagrid, who had told us last lesson that they had finished with unicorns, was waiting for us outside his cabin with a fresh supply of open crates at his feet. My heart sank at the sight of the crates - surely not another skrewt hatching? - but when we got near enough to see inside, I found himself looking at a number of flurry black creatures with long snouts. Their front paws were curiously flat, like spades, and they were blinking up at the class, looking politely puzzled at all the attention.

"These're nifflers," said Hagrid, when the class had gathered around. "Yeh find 'em down mines mostly. They like sparkly stuff… There yeh go, look."

One of the nifflers had suddenly leapt up and attempted to bite Pansy Parkinson's watch off her wrist. She shrieked and jumped backward.

"Useful little treasure detectors," said Hagrid happily. "Thought we'd have some fun with 'em today. See over there?" He pointed at the large patch of freshly turned earth Harry and I had watched him digging from the Owlery window. "I've buried some gold coins. I've got a prize fer whoever picks the niffler that digs up most. Jus' take off all yer valuables, an' choose a niffler, an get ready ter set 'em loose."

I took of my watch, my charm bracelet, my necklace and earrings. You never can be too careful with these animals. Then I picked up a niffler. It was really quite cuddly.

"Hang on," said Hagrid, looking down into the crate, "there's a spare niffler here… who's missin? Where's Hermione?"

"She had to go to the hospital wing," said Ron.

"We'll explain later," Harry muttered; Pansy Parkinson was listening.

It was easily the most fun we had ever had in Care of Magical Creatures. The nifflers dived in and out of the patch of earth as though it were water, each scurrying back to the student who had released it and spitting gold into their hands. Ron's was particularly efficient; it had soon filled his lap with coins.

"Can you buy these as pets, Hagrid?" he asked excitedly as his niffler dived back into the soil, splattering his robes.

"Yer mum wouldn' be happy, Ron," said Hagrid, grinning. "They wreck houses, nifflers. I reckon they've nearly got the lot, now," he added, pacing around the patch of earth while the nifflers continued to dive. "I on'y buried a hundred coins. Oh there y'are, Hermione!"

Hermione was walking toward us across the lawn. Her hands were very heavily bandaged and she looked miserable. Pansy Parkinson was watching her beadily.

"Well, let's check how yeh've done!" said Hagrid. "Count yer coins! An' there's no point tryin' ter steal any, Goyle," he added, his beetle-black eyes narrowed. "It's leprechaun gold. Vanishes after a few hours."

Goyle emptied his pockets, looking extremely sulky. It turned out that Ron's niffler had been most successful, so Hagrid gave him an enormous slab of Honeydukes chocolate for a prize. The bell rang across the grounds for lunch; the rest of the class set off back to the castle, but Harry, Ron,Hermione and I stayed behind to help Hagrid put the nifflers back in their boxes. I noticed Madame Maxime watching them out other carriage window.

"What yeh done ter your hands, Hermione?" said Hagrid, looking concerned.

Hermione told him about the hate mail she had received that morning, and the envelope full of bubotuber pus.

"Aaah, don worry," said Hagrid gendy, looking down at her. "I got some o' those letters an all, after Rita Skeeter wrote abou me mum. 'Yeh're a monster an yeh should be put down.' 'Yer mother killed innocent people an if you had any decency you d jump in a lake.'"

"No!" said Hermione, looking shocked.

"Yeah," said Hagrid, heaving the niffler crates over by his cabin wall. "They're jus' nutters, Hermione. Don' open 'em if yeh get any more. Chuck 'em straigh' in the fire."

"You missed a really good lesson," Harry told Hermione as they headed back toward the castle. "They're good, nifflers, aren't they, Ron?"

Ron, however, was frowning at the chocolate Hagrid had given him. He looked thoroughly put out about something.

"What's the matter?" said Harry. "Wrong flavor?"

"No," said Ron shortly. "Why didn't you tell me about the gold?"

"What gold?" said Harry.

"The gold I gave you at the Quidditch World Cup," said Ron. "The leprechaun gold I gave you for my Omnioculars. In the Top Box. Why didn't you tell me it disappeared?"

"Oh…" he said. "I dunno… I never noticed it had gone. I was more worried about my wand, wasn't I?"

We climbed the steps into the entrance hall and went into the Great Hall for lunch.

"Must be nice," Ron said abruptly, when we had sat down and started serving ourselves with food. "To have so much money you don't notice if a pocketful of Galleons goes missing."

"Listen, I had other stuff on my mind that night!" said Harry impatiently. "We all did, remember?"

"I didn't know leprechaun gold vanishes," Ron muttered. "I thought I was paying you back. You shouldn't've given me that Chudley Cannon hat for Christmas."

"Forget it, all right?" said Harry.

Ron speared a roast potato on the end of his fork, glaring at it. Then he said, "I hate being poor."

Harry, Hermione and me looked at each other. Neither of us really knew what to say.

"It's rubbish," said Ron, still glaring down at his potato. "I don't blame Fred and George for trying to make some extra money. Wish I could. Wish I had a niffler."

"Well, we know what to get you next Christmas," said Hermione brightly. Then, when Ron continued to look gloomy, she said, "Come on, Ron, it could be worse. At least your fingers aren't full of pus." Hermione was having a lot of difficulty managing her knife and fork, her fingers were so stiff and swollen. "I hate that Skeeter woman!" she burst out savagely. "I'll get her back for this if it's the last thing I do!"

Hate mail continued to arrive for Hermione over the following week, and although she followed Hagrid's advice and stopped opening it, several of her ill-wishers sent Howlers, which exploded at the Gryffindor table and shrieked insults at her for the whole Hall to hear. Even those people who didn't read Witch Weekly knew all about the supposed Harry-Krum-Hermione triangle now. Harry was getting sick of telling people that Hermione wasn't his girlfriend. You would think that they would talk about me to, especially after what Skeeter wrote about me cheating on Cedric. But being the good guy he was, he told the great hall at dinner the day after the article what really happened. Some people are still rude to me but I can handle it. Beside I have the most amazing boyfriend ever!

"It'll die down, though," I told Hermione, "if we just ignore it… People got bored with that stuff she wrote about me last time."

"I want to know how she's listening into private conversations when she's supposed to be banned from the grounds!" said Hermione angrily.

Hermione hung back in our next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson to ask Professor Moody something. The rest of the class was very eager to leave; Moody had given them such a rigorous test of hex-deflection that many of them were nursing small injuries. Harry had such a bad case of Twitchy Ears, he had to hold his hands clamped over them as he walked away from the class. I couldn't stop laughing so he was little mad at me, but a good snogging session would clear that right up.

"Well, Rita's definitely not using an Invisibility Cloak!" Hermione panted five minutes later, catching up with us in the entrance hall and pulling Harrys hand away from one of his wiggling ears so that he could hear her. "Moody says he didn't see her anywhere near the judges' table at the second task, or anywhere near the lake!"

"Hermione, is there any point in telling you to drop this?" said Ron.

"No!" said Hermione stubbornly. "I want to know how she heard me talking to Viktor! And how she found out about Hagrid's mum!"

"Maybe she had you bugged," said Harry.

"Bugged?" said Ron blankly. "What… put fleas on her or something?"

Harry started explaining about hidden microphones and recording equipment. Ron was fascinated, but Hermione interrupted them.

"Aren't you two ever going to read Hogwarts, A History?"

"What's the point?" said Ron. "You know it by heart, we can just ask you or Aurora."

"All those substitutes for magic Muggles use - electricity, computers, and radar, and all those things - they all go haywire around Hogwarts, there's too much magic in the air. No, Rita's using magic to eavesdrop, she must be… If I could just find out what it is… ooh, if it's illegal, I'll have her…"

"Haven't we got enough to worry about?" Ron asked her. "Do we have to start a vendetta against Rita Skeeter as well?"

"I'm not asking you to help!" Hermione snapped. "I'll do it on my own!"

She marched back up the marble staircase without a backward glance. I was quite sure she was going to the library.

"What's the betting she comes back with a box of I Hate Rita Skeeter badges?" said Ron.

"When will you just kiss her and be done with it?" I asked him.

"What?" he spluttered. He turned really red, so not his colour, especially with that hair.

"This bickering is really like a foreplay, so do us all a favor and kiss her already!" I said and I walked around. Not noticing Harry laughing at Ron and Ron standing there with his mouth wide open.

Hermione, however, did not ask us to help her pursue vengeance against Rita Skeeter, for which the boys were both grateful, because their workload was mounting ever higher in the days before the Easter holidays. I just didn't want to spend any freetime away from Harry.

Harry and I made a point of sending regular food packages up to the cave in the mountain for dad; enclosing notes, telling him that nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and that we were still waiting for an answer from Percy.

Hedwig didn't return until the end of the Easter holidays. Percy's letter was enclosed in a package of Easter eggs that Mrs. Weasley had sent. Both Harrys and Ron's were the size of dragon eggs and full of homemade toffee. Hermione's and mine, however, were smaller than a chicken egg. Her face fell when she saw it.

"Your mum doesn't read Witch Weekly, by any chance, does she, Ron?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," said Ron, whose mouth was full of toffee. "Gets it for the recipes."

Hermione looked sadly at her tiny egg. I quickly gave her mine, I hate chocolate!

"Don't you want to see what Percy's written?" Harry asked her hastily.

Percy's letter was short and irritated.

_As I am constantly telling the Daily Prophet, Mr. Crouch is taking a well-deserved break. He is sending in regular owls with instructions. No, I haven't actually seen him, but I think I can be trusted to know my own superior's handwriting. I have quite enough to do at the moment without trying to quash these ridiculous rumors._

_Please don't bother me again unless it's something important. Happy Easter._

The start of the summer term would normally have meant that Harry was training hard for the last Quidditch match of the season. This year, however, it was the third and final task in the Triwizard Tournament for which he needed to prepare, but we still didn't know what he would have to do, so we really couldn't do much to prepare him.. Finally, in the last week of May, Professor McGonagall held him back in Transfiguration.

"You are to go down to the Quidditch field tonight at nine o'clock. Potter," she told him. "Mr. Bagman will be there to tell the champions about the third task."

So at half past eight that night. Harry left usin Gryffindor Tower and went downstairs.

**Harry's POV**

As I crossed the entrance hall, Cedric came up from the Hufflepuff common room.

"What d'you reckon it's going to be?" he asked me as we went together down the stone steps, out into the cloudy night. "Fleur keeps going on about underground tunnels; she reckons we've got to find treasure."

"That wouldn't be too bad," I said, thinking that he would simply ask Hagrid for a niffler to do the job for him.

We walked down the dark lawn to the Quidditch stadium, turned through a gap in the stands, and walked out onto the field.

"What've they done to it?" Cedric said indignantly, stopping dead.

The Quidditch field was no longer smooth and flat. It looked as though somebody had been building long, low walls all over it that twisted and crisscrossed in every direction.

"They're hedges!" I said, bending to examine the nearest one.

"Hello there!" called a cheery voice.

Ludo Bagman was standing in the middle of the field with Krum and Fleur. Cedric and I made our way toward them, climbing over the hedges. Fleur beamed at me as I came nearer. Her attitude toward me had changed completely since he had saved her sister from the lake.

"Well, what d'you think?" said Bagman happily as we climbed over the last hedge. "Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll have them twenty feet high. Don't worry," he added, grinning, spotting the less than- happy expressions on our faces, "you'll have your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"

No one spoke for a moment. Then –

"Maze," grunted Krum.

"That's right!" said Bagman. "A maze. The third task's really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."

"We simply 'ave to get through the maze?" said Fleur.

"There will be obstacles," said Bagman happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Hagrid is providing a number of creatures… then there will be spells that must be broken… all that sort of thing, you know. Now, the champions who are leading on points will get a head start into the maze." Bagman grinned at Cedric and me. "Then Mr. Krum will enter… then Miss Delacour. But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?"

I, who knew only too well the kind of creatures that Hagrid was likely to provide for an event like this, thought it was unlikely to be any fun at all. However, I nodded politely like the other champions.

"Very well… if you haven't got any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, shall we, it's a bit chilly…"

Bagman hurried alongside me as we began to wend our way out of the growing maze. I had the feeling that Bagman was going to start offering to help me again, but just then, Krum tapped me on the shoulder.

"Could I haff a vord?"

"Yeah, all right," I said, slightly surprised.

"Vill you valk vith me?"

"Okay," I said curiously.

Bagman looked slightly perturbed.

"I'll wait for you. Harry, shall I?"

"No, it's okay, Mr. Bagman," I said, suppressing a smile, "I think I can find the castle on my own, thanks."

Krum and I left the stadium together, but Krum did not set a course for the Durmstrang ship. Instead, he walked toward the forest.

"What're we going this way for?" I said as we passed Hagrid s cabin and the illuminated Beauxbatons carriage.

"Don't vont to be overheard," said Krum shortly.

When at last we had reached a quiet stretch of ground a short way from the Beauxbatons horses' paddock, Krum stopped in the shade of the trees and turned to face me.

"I vant to know," he said, glowering, "vot there is between you and Hermy-ownninny."

I, who from Krum's secretive manner had expected something much more serious than this, stared up at Krum in amazement.

"Nothing," I said. But Krum glowered at me, and I, somehow struck anew by how tall Krum was, elaborated. "We're friends. She's not my girlfriend and she never has been. It's just that Skeeter woman making things up."

"Hermy-own-ninny talks about you very often," said Krum, looking suspiciously at me.

"Yeah," I said, "because were friends."

I couldn't quite believe I was having this conversation with Viktor Krum, the famous International Quidditch player. It was as though the eighteen-year-old Krum thought I, was an equal - a real rival –

"You haff never… you haff not…"

"No," said Harry very firmly. "I already have a girlfriend who I like very much. Hermione is just a friend, one of my best friend. Even like a sister to me, so no, nothing to worry about."

Krum looked slightly happier. He stared at me for a few seconds, then said, "You fly very veil. I vos votching at the first task."

"Thanks," I said, grinning broadly and suddenly feeling much taller myself. "I saw you at the Quidditch World Cup. The Wronski Feint, you really -"

But something moved behind Krum in the trees, and I, who had some experience of the sort of thing that lurked in the forest, instinctively grabbed Krum's arm and pulled him around.

"Vot is it?"

I shook my head, staring at the place where I'd seen movement. I slipped my hand inside my robes, reaching for my wand.

Suddenly a man staggered out from behind a tall oak. For a moment, I didn't recognize him… then I realized it was Mr. Crouch.

He looked as though he had been traveling for days. The knees of his robes were ripped and bloody, his face scratched; he was unshaven and gray with exhaustion. His neat hair and mustache were both in need of a wash and a trim. His strange appearance, however, was nothing to the way he was behaving. Muttering and gesticulating, Mr. Crouch appeared to be talking to someone that he alone could see. He reminded me vividly of an old tramp I had seen once when out shopping with the Dursleys. That man too had been conversing wildly with thin air; Aunt Petunia had seized Dudley's hand and pulled him across the road to avoid him; Uncle Vernon had then treated the family to a long rant about what he would like to do with beggars and vagrants.

"Vosn't he a judge?" said Krum, staring at Mr. Crouch. "Isn't he vith your Ministry?"

I nodded, hesitated for a moment, then walked slowly toward Mr. Crouch, who did not look at me, but continued to talk to a nearby tree.

"… and when you've done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the tournament, Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve…"

"Mr. Crouch?" I said cautiously.

"… and then send another owl to Madame Maxime, because she might want to up the number of students she's bringing, now Karkaroff's made it a round dozen… do that, Weatherby, will you? Will you? Will…"

Mr. Crouch's eyes were bulging. He stood staring at the tree, muttering soundlessly at it. Then he staggered sideways and fell to his knees.

"Mr. Crouch?" I said loudly. "Are you all right?"

Crouch's eyes were rolling in his head. I looked around at Krum, who had followed him into the trees, and was looking down at Crouch in alarm.

"Vot is wrong with him?"

"No idea," I muttered. "Listen, you'd better go and get someone -"

"Dumbledore!" gasped Mr. Crouch. He reached out and seized a handful of my robes, dragging me closer, though his eyes were staring over my head. "I need… see… Dumbledore…"

"Okay," I said, "if you get up, Mr. Crouch, we can go up to the-"

"I've done… stupid… thing…" Mr. Crouch breathed. He looked utterly mad. His eyes were rolling and bulging, and a trickle of spittle was sliding down his chin. Every word he spoke seemed to cost him a terrible effort. "Must… tell… Dumbledore…"

"Get up, Mr. Crouch," I said loudly and clearly. "Get up, I'll take you to Dumbledore!"

Mr. Crouch's eyes rolled forward onto me.

"Who… you?" he whispered.

"I'm a student at the school," I said, looking around at Krum for some help, but Krum was hanging back, looking extremely nervous.

"You're not… his?" whispered Crouch, his mouth sagging.

"No," I said, without the faintest idea what Crouch was talking about.

"Dumbledore's?"

"That's right," I said.

Crouch was pulling me closer; I tried to loosen Crouch's grip on my robes, but it was too powerful.

"Warn… Dumbledore…"

"I'll get Dumbledore if you let go of me," I said. "Just let go, Mr. Crouch, and I'll get him…"

"Thank you, Weatherby, and when you have done that, I would like a cup of tea. My wife and son will be arriving shortly, we are attending a concert tonight with Mr. and Mrs. Fudge."

Crouch was now talking fluently to a tree again, and seemed completely unaware that I Harry was there, which surprised me so much I didn't notice that Crouch had released me.

"Yes, my son has recently gained twelve O.W.L.S, most satisfactory, yes, thank you, yes, very proud indeed. Now, if you could bring me that memo from the Andorran Minister of Magic, I think I will have time to draft a response…"

"You stay here with him!" I said to Krum. "I'll get Dumbledore, I'll be quicker, I know where his office is -"

"He is mad," said Krum doubtfully, staring down at Crouch, who was still gabbling to the tree, apparently convinced it was Percy.

"Just stay with him," I said, starting to get up, but my movement seemed to trigger another abrupt change in Mr. Crouch, who seized me hard around the knees and pulled me back to the ground.

"Don't… leave… me!" he whispered, his eyes bulging again. "I… escaped… must warn… must tell… see Dumbledore… my fault… all my fault… Bertha… dead… all my fault… my son… my fault… tell Dumbledore… Harry Potter… the Dark Lord… stronger… Harry Potter…"

"I'll get Dumbledore if you let me go, Mr. Crouch!" I said. I looked furiously around at Krum. "Help me, will you?"

Looking extremely apprehensive, Krum moved forward and squatted down next to Mr. Crouch.

"Just keep him here," I said, pulling myself free of Mr. Crouch. "I'll be back with Dumbledore."

"Hurry, von't you?" Krum called after me as I sprinted away from the forest and up through the dark grounds. They were deserted; Bagman, Cedric, and Fleur had disappeared. I tore up the stone steps, through the oak front doors, and off up the marble staircase, toward the second floor.

Five minutes later I was hurtling toward a stone gargoyle standing halfway along an empty corridor.

"Sher - sherbet lemon!" I panted at it.

This was the password to the hidden staircase to Dumbledore's office - or at least, it had been two years ago. The password had evidently changed, however, for the stone gargoyle did not spring to life and jump aside, but stood frozen, glaring at me malevolently.

"Move!" I shouted at it. "C'mon!"

But nothing at Hogwarts had ever moved just because I shouted at it; I knew it was no good. I looked up and down the dark corridor. Perhaps Dumbledore was in the staff room? I started running as fast as he could toward the staircase –

"POTTER!"

I skidded to a halt and looked around. Snape had just emerged from the hidden staircase behind the stone gargoyle. The wall was sliding shut behind him even as he beckoned me back toward him.

"What are you doing here, Potter?"

"I need to see Professor Dumbledore!" I said, running back up the corridor and skidding to a standstill in front of Snape instead. "It's Mr. Crouch… he's just turned up… he's in the forest… he's asking -"

"What is this rubbish?" said Snape, his black eyes glittering. "What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Crouch!" I shouted. "From the Ministry! He's ill or something - he's in the forest, he wants to see Dumbledore! Just give me the password up to -"

"The headmaster is busy. Potter," said Snape, his thin mouth curling into an unpleasant smile.

"I've got to tell Dumbledore!" I yelled.

"Didn't you hear me. Potter?"

I could tell Snape was thoroughly enjoying himself, denying me the thing he wanted when I was so panicky.

"Look," I said angrily, "Crouch isn't right - he's - he's out of his mind – he says he wants to warn -"

The stone wall behind Snape slid open. Dumbledore was standing there, wearing long green robes and a mildly curious expression. "Is there a problem?" he said, looking between me and Snape.

"Professor!" I said, sidestepping Snape before Snape could speak, "Mr. Crouch is here - he's down in the forest, he wants to speak to you!"

I expected Dumbledore to ask questions, but to my relief, Dumbledore did nothing of the sort.

"Lead the way," he said promptly, and he swept off along the corridor behind me, leaving Snape standing next to the gargoyle and looking twice as ugly.

"What did Mr. Crouch say. Harry?" said Dumbledore as we walked swiftly down the marble staircase.

"Said he wants to warn you… said he's done something terrible… he mentioned his son… and Bertha Jorkins… and - and Voldemort… something about Voldemort getting stronger…"

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, and he quickened his pace as we hurried out into the pitch-darkness.

"He's not acting normally," I said, hurrying along beside Dumbledore. "He doesn't seem to know where he is. He keeps talking like he thinks Percy Weasley's there, and then he changes, and says he needs to see you… I left him with Viktor Krum."

"You did?" said Dumbledore sharply, and he began to take longer strides still, so that I was running to keep up. "Do you know if anybody else saw Mr. Crouch?"

"No," I said. "Krum and I were talking, Mr. Bagman had just finished telling us about the third task, we stayed behind, and then we saw Mr. Crouch coming out of the forest -"

"Where are they?" said Dumbledore as the Beauxbatons carriage emerged from the darkness.

"Over here," I said, moving in front of Dumbledore, leading the way through the trees. I couldn't hear Crouch's voice anymore, but I knew where he was going; it hadn't been much past the Beauxbatons carriage… somewhere around here…

"Viktor?" I shouted.

No one answered.

"They were here," I said to Dumbledore. "They were definitely somewhere around here…"

"Lumos," Dumbledore said, lighting his wand and holding it up.

Its narrow beam traveled from black trunk to black trunk, illuminating the ground. And then it fell upon a pair of feet. Dumbledore and I hurried forward. Krum was sprawled on the forest floor. He seemed to be unconscious. There was no sign at all of Mr. Crouch. Dumbledore bent over Krum and gently lifted one of his eyelids.

"Stunned," he said softly. His half-moon glasses glittered in the wand light as he peered around at the surrounding trees.

"Should I go and get someone?" I said. "Madam Pomfrey?"

"No," said Dumbledore swiftly. "Stay here."

He raised his wand into the air and pointed it in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. I saw something silvery dart out of it and streak away through the trees like a ghostly bird.

Then Dumbledore bent over Krum again, pointed his wand at him, and muttered, "Ennervate."

Krum opened his eyes. He looked dazed. When he saw Dumbledore, he tried to sit up, but Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder and made him lie still.

"He attacked me!" Krum muttered, putting a hand up to his head. "The old madman attacked me! I vos looking around to see vare Potter had gone and he attacked from behind!"

"Lie still for a moment," Dumbledore said.

The sound of thunderous footfalls reached them, and Hagrid came panting into sight with Fang at his heels. He was carrying his crossbow.

"Professor Dumbledore!" he said, his eyes widening. "Harry - what the -?"

"Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff," said Dumbledore. "His student has been attacked. When you've done that, kindly alert Professor Moody -"

"No need, Dumbledore," said a wheezy growl. "I'm here."

Moody was limping toward them, leaning on his staff, his wand lit.

"Damn leg," he said furiously. "Would've been here quicker… what's happened? Snape said something about Crouch -"

"Crouch?" said Hagrid blankly.

"Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!" said Dumbledore sharply.

"Oh yeah… right y'are, Professor…" said Hagrid, and he turned and disappeared into the dark trees, Fang trotting after him.

"I don't know where Barty Crouch is," Dumbledore told Moody, "but it is essential that we find him."

"I'm onto it," growled Moody, and he pulled out his wand and limped off into the forest.

Neither Dumbledore nor I spoke again until we heard the unmistakable sounds of Hagrid and Fang returning. Karkaroff was hurrying along behind them. He was wearing his sleek silver furs, and he looked pale and agitated.

"What is this?" he cried when he saw Krum on the ground and Dumbledore and me beside him. "What's going on?"

"I vos attacked!" said Krum, sitting up now and rubbing his head. "Mr. Crouch or votever his name -"

"Crouch attacked you? Crouch attacked you? The Triwizard judge?"

"Igor," Dumbledore began, but Karkaroff had drawn himself up, clutching his furs around him, looking livid.

"Treachery!" he bellowed, pointing at Dumbledore. "It is a plot! You and your Ministry of Magic have lured me here under false pretenses, Dumbledore! This is not an equal competition! First you sneak Potter into the tournament, though he is underage! Now one of your Ministry friends attempts to put my champion out of action! I smell double-dealing and corruption in this whole affair, and you, Dumbledore, you, with your talk of closer international wizarding links, of rebuilding old ties, of forgetting old differences - here's what I think of you!"

Karkaroff spat onto the ground at Dumbledore's feet. In one swift movement, Hagrid seized the front of Karkaroff's furs, lifted him into the air, and slammed him against a nearby tree.

"Apologize!" Hagrid snarled as Karkaroff gasped for breath, Hagrid's massive fist at his throat, his feet dangling in midair.

"Hagrid, no!" Dumbledore shouted, his eyes flashing.

Hagrid removed the hand pinning Karkaroff to the tree, and Karkaroff slid all the way down the trunk and slumped in a huddle at its roots; a few twigs and leaves showered down upon his head.

"Kindly escort Harry back up to the castle, Hagrid," said Dumbledore sharply.

Breathing heavily, Hagrid gave Karkaroff a glowering look.

"Maybe I'd better stay here. Headmaster…"

"You will take Harry back to school, Hagrid," Dumbledore repeated firmly. "Take him right up to Gryffindor Tower. And Harry - I want you to stay there. Anything you might want to do - any owls you might want to send - they can wait until morning, do you understand me?"

"Er - yes," I said, staring at him. How had Dumbledore known that, at that very moment, I had been thinking about sending Pigwidgeon straight to Sirius, to tell him what had happened?

"I'll leave Fang with yeh Headmaster," Hagrid said, staring menacingly at Karkaroff, who was still sprawled at the foot of the tree, tangled in furs and tree roots. "Stay, Fang. C'mon, Harry."

We marched in silence past the Beauxbatons carriage and up toward the castle.

"How dare he," Hagrid growled as they strode past the lake. "How dare he accuse Dumbledore. Like Dumbledore'd do anythin' like that. Like Dumbledore wanted you in the tournament in the firs' place. Worried! I dunno when I seen Dumbledore more worried than he's bin lately. An' you!" Hagrid suddenly said angrily to me aback. "What were yeh doin', wanderin' off with ruddy Krum? He's from Durmstrang, Harry! Coulda jinxed yeh right there, couldn he? Hasn' Moody taught yeh nothin'? 'Magine lettin him lure yeh off on yer own -"

"Krum's all right!" I said as we climbed the steps into the entrance hall. "He wasn't trying to jinx me, he just wanted to talk about Hermione -"

"I'll be havin' a few words with her, an' all," said Hagrid grimly, stomping up the stairs. "The less you lot 'ave ter do with these foreigners, the happier yeh'll be. Yeh can trust any of 'em."

"You were getting on all right with Madame Maxime," I said, annoyed.

"Don' you talk ter me abou' her!" said Hagrid, and he looked quite frightening for a moment. "I've got her number now! Tryin' ter get back in me good books, tryin' ter get me ter tell her what's comin in the third task. Ha! You can' trust any of'em!"

Hagrid was in such a bad mood, I was quite glad to say good-bye to him in front of the Fat Lady. I clambered through the portrait hole into the common room and hurried straight for the corner where Ron, Hermione and Aurora were sitting, to tell them what had happened.

**A/N: wauw, two chapters in two days. I'm proud of myself! Keep telling me what you think **

**!**


	25. The Dream

**A/N: I don't own anything**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 25: The Dream**

"It comes down to this," said Hermione, rubbing her forehead. "Either Mr. Crouch attacked Viktor, or somebody else attacked both of them when Viktor wasn't looking."

"It must've been Crouch," said Ron at once. "That's why he was gone when Harry and Dumbledore got there. He'd done a runner."

"I don't think so," said Harry, shaking his head. "He seemed really weak - I don't reckon he was up to Disapparating or anything."

"You can't Disapparate on the Hogwarts grounds, hasn't Hermione told you enough times?" I said.

"Okay… how's this for a theory," said Ron excitedly. "Krum attacked Crouch - no, wait for it - and then Stunned himself!"

"And Mr. Crouch evaporated, did he?" said Hermione coldly.

"Oh yeah…"

"Really, Ron, think things through before you say anything," I said.

It was daybreak. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I had crept out of our dormitories very early and hurried up to the Owlery together to send a note to Sirius. Now we were standing looking out at the misty grounds. All of us were puffy-eyed and pale because we had been talking late into the night about Mr. Crouch.

"Just go through it again, Harry," said Hermione. "What did Mr. Crouch actually say?"

"I've told you, he wasn't making much sense," said Harry. "He said he wanted to warn Dumbledore about something. He definitely mentioned Bertha Jorkins, and he seemed to think she was dead. He kept saying stuff was his fault… He mentioned his son."

"Well, that was his fault," said Hermione testily.

"He was out of his mind," said Harry. "Half the time he seemed to think his wife and son were still alive, and he kept talking to Percy about work and giving him instructions."

"And… remind me what he said about You-Know-Who?" said Ron tentatively.

"I've told you," Harry repeated dully. "He said he's getting stronger."

There was a pause. Then Ron said in a falsely confident voice, "But he was out of his mind, like you said, so half of it was probably just raving…"

"He was sanest when he was trying to talk about Voldemort," said Harry, and Ron winced at the sound of the name. "He was having real trouble stringing two words together, but that was when he seemed to know where he was, and know what he wanted to do. He just kept saying he had to see Dumbledore."

"If Snape hadn't held me up," Harry said bitterly, "we might've got there in time. 'The headmaster is busy. Potter… what's this rubbish, Potter?' Why couldn't he have just got out of the way?"

"Maybe he didn't want you to get there!" said Ron quickly. "Maybe - hang on - how fast d'you reckon he could've gotten down to the forest? D'you reckon he could've beaten you and Dumbledore there?"

"Not unless he can turn himself into a bat or something," said Harry.

"Wouldn't put it past him," Ron muttered.

"We need to see Professor Moody," I said. "We need to find out whether he found Mr. Crouch."

"If he had the Marauder's Map on him, it would've been easy," said Harry.

"Unless Crouch was already outside the grounds," said Ron, "because it only shows up to the boundaries, doesn't -"

"Shh!" said Hermione suddenly.

Somebody was climbing the steps up to the Owlery. I could hear two voices arguing, coming closer and closer.

"- that's blackmail, that is, we could get into a lot of trouble for that-"

"- we've tried being polite; it's time to play dirty, like him. He wouldn't like the Ministry of Magic knowing what he did -"

"I'm telling you, if you put that in writing, it's blackmail!"

"Yeah, and you won't be complaining if we get a nice fat payoff, will you?"

The Owlery door banged open. Fred and George came over the threshold, then froze at the sight of Harry, Ron, Hermione and me.

"What're you doing here?" Ron and Fred said at the same time.

"Sending a letter," said Harry and George in unison.

"What, at this time?" said Hermione and Fred.

Fred grinned.

"Fine - we won't ask you what you're doing, if you don't ask us," he said. He was holding a sealed envelope in his hands. I glanced at it, but Fred, whether accidentally or on purpose, shifted his hand so that the name on it was covered.

"Well, don't let us hold you up," Fred said, making a mock bow and pointing at the door.

Ron didn't move. "Who're you blackmailing?" he said.

The grin vanished from Fred's face. I saw George half glance at Fred, before smiling at Ron.

"Don't be stupid, I was only joking," he said easily.

"Didn't sound like that," said Ron.

Fred and George looked at each other. Then Fred said abruptly, "I've told you before, Ron, keep your nose out if you like it the shape it is. Can't see why you would, but -"

"It's my business if you're blackmailing someone," said Ron. "George's right, you could end up in serious trouble for that."

"Told you, I was joking," said George. He walked over to Fred, pulled the letter out of his hands, and began attaching it to the leg of the nearest barn owl. "You're starting to sound a bit like our dear older brother, you are, Ron. Carry on like this and you'll be made a prefect."

"No, I won't!" said Ron hotly.

George carried the barn owl over to the window and it took off. George turned around and grinned at Ron.

"Well, stop telling people what to do then. See you later."

He and Fred left the Owlery. Harry, Ron, Hermione and me stared at one another.

"You don't think they know something about all this, do you?" Hermione whispered. "About Crouch and everything?"

"No," said Harry. "If it was something that serious, they'd tell someone. They'd tell Dumbledore."

Ron, however, was looking uncomfortable.

"What's the matter?" I asked him.

"Well…" said Ron slowly, "I dunno if they would. They're… they're obsessed with making money lately, I noticed it when I was hanging around with them - when - you know -"

"We weren't talking." Harry finished the sentence for him. "Yeah, but blackmail…"

"It's this joke shop idea they've got," said Ron. "I thought they were only saying it to annoy Mum, but they really mean it, they want to start one. They've only got a year left at Hogwarts, they keep going on about how it's time to think about their future, and Dad can't help them, and they need gold to get started."

Hermione was looking uncomfortable now.

"Yes, but… they wouldn't do anything against the law to get gold."

"Wouldn't they?" said Ron, looking skeptical. "I dunno… they don't exactly mind breaking rules, do they?"

"Yes, but this is the law" said Hermione, looking scared. "This isn't some silly school rule… They'll get a lot more than detention for blackmail! Ron… maybe you'd better tell Percy…"

"Are you mad?" said Ron. "Tell Percy? He'd probably do a Crouch and turn them in."

He stared at the window through which Fred and George's owl had departed, then said, "Come on, let's get some breakfast."

"D'you think it's too early to go and see Professor Moody?" Hermione said as we went down the spiral staircase.

"Yes," said Harry. "He'd probably blast us through the door if we wake him at the crack of dawn; he'll think we're trying to attack him while he's asleep. Let's give it till break."

History of Magic had rarely gone so slowly. I kept checking my watch. All four of us were so tired we could happily have put our heads down on the desks and slept; even Hermione wasn't taking her usual notes, but was sitting with her head on her hand, gazing at Professor Binns with her eyes out of focus.

When the bell finally rang, we hurried out into the corridors toward the Dark Arts classroom and found Professor Moody leaving it. He looked as tired as we felt. The eyelid of his normal eye was drooping, giving his face an even more lopsided appearance than usual.

"Professor Moody?" Harry called as we made our way toward him through the crowd.

"Hello, Potter," growled Moody. His magical eye followed a couple of passing first years, who sped up, looking nervous; it rolled into the back of Moody's head and watched them around the corner before he spoke again.

"Come in here."

He stood back to let us into his empty classroom, limped in after us, and closed the door.

"Did you find him?" Harry asked without preamble. "Mr. Crouch?"

"No," said Moody. He moved over to his desk, sat down, stretched out his wooden leg with a slight groan, and pulled out his hip flask.

"Did you use the map?" Harry said.

"Of course," said Moody, taking a swig from his flask. "Took a leaf out of your book, Potter. Summoned it from my office into the forest. He wasn't anywhere on there."

"So he did Disapparate?" said Ron.

"You can't Disapparate on the grounds, Ron!" said Hermione. "There are other ways he could have disappeared, aren't there, Professor?"

Moody's magical eye quivered as it rested on Hermione. "You're another one who might think about a career as an Auror," he told her. "Mind works the right way Granger."

Hermione flushed pink with pleasure.

"Well, he wasn't invisible," I said. "The map shows invisible people. He must've left the grounds, then."

"But under his own steam?" said Hermione eagerly, "or because someone made him?"

"Yeah, someone could've - could've pulled him onto a broom and flown off with him, couldn't they?" said Ron quickly, looking hopefully at Moody as if he too wanted to be told he had the makings of an Auror.

"We can't rule out kidnap," growled Moody.

"So," said Ron, "d'you reckon he's somewhere in Hogsmeade?"

"Could be anywhere," said Moody, shaking his head. "Only thing we know for sure is that he's not here."

He yawned widely, so that his scars stretched, and his lopsided mouth revealed a number of missing teeth. Then he said, "Now, Dumbledore's told me you three fancy yourselves as investigators, but there's nothing you can do for Crouch. The Ministry'll be looking for him now, Dumbledore's notified them. Potter, you just keep your mind on the third task."

"What?" said Harry. "Oh yeah…"

"Should be right up your street, this one," said Moody, looking up at Harry and scratching his scarred and stubbly chin. "From what Dumbledore's said, you've managed to get through stuff like this plenty of times. Broke your way through a series of obstacles guarding the Philosopher's Stone in your first year, didn't you?"

"We helped," Ron said quickly. "Me and Hermione helped."

Moody grinned. "Well, help him practice for this one, and I'll be very surprised if he doesn't win," said Moody. "In the meantime… constant vigilance, Potter. Constant vigilance."

He took another long draw from his hip flask, and his magical eye swiveled onto the window. The topmost sail of the Durmstrang ship was visible through it.

"You three," counseled Moody, his normal eye on Ron, Hermione and me, "you stick close to Potter, all right? I'm keeping an eye on things, but all the same… you can never have too many eyes out."

Dad sent our owl back the very next morning. It fluttered down beside Harry at the same moment that a tawny owl landed in front of Hermione, clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet in its beak. She took the newspaper, scanned the first few pages, said, "Ha! She hasn't got wind of Crouch!" then joined Ron, Harry and me in reading what dad had to say on the mysterious events of the night before last.

Harry - what do you think you are playing at, walking off into the forest with Viktor Krum?

I want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to go walking with anyone else at night. There is somebody highly dangerous at Hogwarts. It is clear to me that they wanted to stop Crouch from seeing Dumbledore and you were probably feet away from them in the dark. You could have been killed.

Your name didn't get into the Goblet of Fire by accident. If someone's trying to attack you, they're on their last chance. Stay close to Ron, Hermione and Aurora, do not leave Gryffindor Tower after hours, and arm yourself for the third task. Practice Stunning and Disarming. A few hexes wouldn't go amiss either. There's nothing you can do about Crouch. Keep your head down and look after yourself. I'm waiting for your letter giving me your word you won't stray out-of-bounds again.

Sirius

"Who's he, to lecture me about being out-of-bounds?" said Harry in mild indignation as he folded up Sirius's letter and put it inside his robes. "After all the stuff he did at school!"

"He's worried about you!" I said. "That's what dads do! Just like Moody and Hagrid! So listen to them!"

"No one's tried to attack me all year," said Harry. "No one's done anything to me at all-"

"Except put your name in the Goblet of Fire," I said. "And they must've done that for a reason Harry. Dad is right. Maybe they've been biding their time. Maybe this is the task they're going to get you."

"Look," said Harry impatiently, "let's say Sirius is right, and someone Stunned Krum to kidnap Crouch. Well, they would've been in the trees near us, wouldn't they? But they waited till I was out of the way until they acted, didn't they? So it doesn't look like I'm their target, does it?"

"They couldn't have made it look like an accident if they'd murdered you in the forest!" I said. "But if you die during a task-"

"They didn't care about attacking Krum, did they?" said Harry. "Why didn't they just polish me off at the same time? They could've made it look like Krum and I had a duel or something."

"Harry, I don't understand it either," I said desperately. "I just know there are a lot of odd things going on, and I don't like it… Moody's right - dad is right - you've got to get in training for the third task, straight away. And you make sure you write back to dad and promise him you're not going to go sneaking off alone again. And promise me to! I don't want you to get hurt, ok. Please stay safe." I said to him.

"ok, I Promise." He said and he gave me a kiss. I melted in his arm.

For the next few days we spent all of our free time either in the library, looking up hexes, or else in empty classrooms, which we sneaked into to practice. Harry was concentrating on the Stunning Spell, which he had never used before. The trouble was that practicing it involved certain sacrifices on our part.

"Can't we kidnap Mrs. Norris?" Ron suggested on Monday lunchtime as he lay flat on his back in the middle of their Charms classroom, having just been Stunned and reawoken by Harry for the fifth time in a row. "Let's Stun her for a bit. Or you could use Dobby, Harry, I bet he'd do anything to help you. I'm not complaining or anything" - he got gingerly to his feet, rubbing his backside - "but I'm aching all over…"

"Well, you keep missing the cushions, don't you!" said Hermione impatiently, rearranging the pile of cushions they had used for the Banishing Spell, which Flitwick had left in a cabinet. "Just try and fall backward!"

"Once you're Stunned, you can't aim too well, Hermione!" said Ron angrily. "Why don't you take a turn?"

"Well, I think Harry's got it now, anyway," said Hermione hastily.

"And we don't have to worry about Disarming, because he's been able to do that for ages… I think we ought to start on some of these hexes this evening."

She looked down the list we had made in the library.

"I like the look of this one," she said, "this Impediment Curse. Should slow down anything that's trying to attack you Harry. We'll start with that one."

The bell rang. We hastily shoved the cushions back into Flitwicks cupboard and slipped out of the classroom.

"See you at dinner!" said Hermione, and she set off for Arithmancy, while Harry, Ron and I headed toward North Tower, and Divination. Broad strips of dazzling gold sunlight tell across the corridor from the high windows. The sky outside was so brightly blue it looked as though it had been enameled.

"It's going to be boiling in Trelawney's room, she never puts out that fire," said Ron as we started up the staircase toward the silver ladder and the trapdoor.

He was quite right. The dimly lit room was swelteringly hot. The fumes from the perfumed fire were heavier than ever. My head swam as I made my way over to one of the curtained windows. While Professor Trelawney was looking the other way, disentangling her shawl from a lamp, I opened it an inch or so and settled back in my chintz armchair, so that a soft breeze played across my face. It was extremely comfortable. Harry took a seat next to me and smiled. Good idea, he mouthed.

"My dears," said Professor Trelawney, sitting down in her winged armchair in front of the class and peering around at us all with her strangely enlarged eyes, "we have almost finished our work on planetary divination. Today, however, will be an excellent opportunity to examine the effects of Mars, for he is placed most interestingly at the present time. If you will all look this way, I will dim the lights…"

She waved her wand and the lamps went out. The fire was the only source of light now. Professor Trelawney bent down and lifted, from under her chair, a miniature model of the solar system, contained within a glass dome. It was a beautiful thing; each of the moons glimmered in place around the nine planets and the fiery sun, all of them hanging in thin air beneath the glass. I watched lazily as Professor Trelawney began to point out the fascinating angle Mars was making to Neptune.

While listening to her and trying to stay awake, I thought back to the time where Harry and I were alone in the prefects bathroom. Everytime that memory came back, a smile formed on my face. We hadn't had any alone time this last past weeks, so I kept thinking about this moment a lot.

I glanced beside me to look at Harry and I found him asleep. While I was watching, he face twitched and he started frowning. Something was wrong. I tried to catch Ron's attention, but he was dozing off.

I started to shake Harry to try and get him up, but it didn't work. He started shaking and a hand went to his forehead, to his scar. I was really starting to freak out. Suddenly he fell of his chair and started rolling around, clutching his scar, moaning in pain. This is not good.

"Harry! Harry!" I yelled, grabbing him. Ron was beside me in an instant and looked terrified. If I would look in a mirror right now, I would probably look the same.

Harry opened his eyes. He was breathing hard and his eyes were looking all over the place.

"You' all right?" I asked.

"Of course he isn't!" said Professor Trelawney, looking thoroughly excited. Her great eyes loomed over Harry, gazing at him. "What was it Potter? A premonition? An apparition? What did you see?"

"Nothing," Harry said. He sat up. I could feel him shaking. He kept looking around. I grabbed his hand to give him my support.

"You were clutching your scar!" said Professor Trelawney. "You were rolling on the floor, clutching your scar! Come now Potter, I have experience in these matters!"

Harry looked up at her."I need to go to the hospital wing, I think," he said. "Bad headache."

"My dear, you were undoubtedly stimulated by the extraordinary clairvoyant vibrations of my room!" said Professor Trelawney. "If you leave now, you may lose the opportunity to see further than you have ever -"

"I don't want to see anything except a headache cure," Harry said.

He stood up. The class backed away. They all looked unnerved. I stood up to.

'I'm going with you," I said. Harry looked at me, started to open his mouth to say something but there had to be something in my eyes that stopped him and he nodded. I grabbed my bag.

"Miss Black, you don't have permission to go," Professor Trelawney said.

"My boyfriend has a serious headache, I'm going to escort him to the hospital wing!" I said and I walked to the trapdoor, ignoring her, who was wearing an expression of great frustration. Harry followed me.

When I reached the bottom, I turned around and looked at Harry.

"We are not going to the hospital wing are we? You had an vision about Voldemort," I said.

Harry nodded.

"We are going to see Dumbledore, just like Sirius said and like I promised," he said.

I stepped forward and hugged him. His arms went around me and his head rested on mine.

"I'm here for you," I said.

"I know," he said. He took a step back and kissed me hard on the lips.

Like everytime he does that, I forget everything around me and let myself get lost in the moment.

He pulled back and smiled at me. "We better get going,"

"ok," I said and I give him a peck on the lips and grab his hand.

We walked down the corridors quietly until we reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledores office. Then I remembered that I didn't know the password. I looked at Harry and saw him looking at me.

"Sherbet lemon?" he tried tentatively.

The gargoyle did not move.

"Okay," said Harry, staring at it, "Pear Drop. Er - Licorice Wand. Fizzing Whizbee. Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans… oh no, he doesn't like them, does he?… oh just open, can't you?" he said angrily. "I really need to see him, its urgent!"

The gargoyle remained immovable.

"Chocolate Frog!" he yelled angrily. "Sugar Quill! Cockroach Cluster!"

The gargoyle sprang to life and jumped aside. Harry and I blinked.

"Cockroach Cluster?" he said, amazed. "I was only joking…"

We hurried through the gap in the walls and stepped onto the foot of a spiral stone staircase, which moved slowly upward as the doors closed behind us, taking us up to a polished oak door with a brass door knocker.

We could hear voices from inside the office. We stepped off the moving staircase and hesitated, listening.

"Dumbledore, I'm afraid I don't see the connection, don't see it at all!" It was the voice of the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. "Ludo says Berthas perfectly capable of getting herself lost. I agree we would have expected to have found her by now, but all the same, we've no evidence of foul play, Dumbledore, none at all. As for her disappearance being linked with Barty Crouch's!"

"And what do you thinks happened to Barty Crouch, Minister?" said Moody's growling voice.

"I see two possibilities, Alastor," said Fudge. "Either Crouch has finally cracked - more than likely, I'm sure you'll agree, given his personal history - lost his mind, and gone wandering off somewhere -"

"He wandered extremely quickly, if that is the case, Cornelius," said Dumbledore calmly.

"Or else - well…" Fudge sounded embarrassed. "Well, I'll reserve judgment until after I've seen the place where he was found, but you say it was just past the Beauxbatons carriage? Dumbledore, you know what that woman is?"

"I consider her to be a very able headmistress - and an excellent dancer," said Dumbledore quietly.

"Dumbledore, come!" said Fudge angrily. "Don't you think you might be prejudiced in her favor because of Hagrid? They don't all turn out harmless - if, indeed, you can call Hagrid harmless, with that monster fixation he's got -"

"I no more suspect Madame Maxime than Hagrid," said Dumbledore, just as calmly. "I think it possible that it is you who are prejudiced, Cornelius."

"Can we wrap up this discussion?" growled Moody.

"Yes, yes, let's go down to the grounds, then," said Fudge impatiently.

"No, it's not that," said Moody, "it's just that Potter and Black wants a word with you, Dumbledore. There just outside the door."

**A/N: here you go, chapter 25. Only a few more to go and then year 4 is complete. Tell me what you think.**


	26. The Pensieve

**A/N: I don't own anything**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 26: The Pensieve**

The door of the office opened.

"Hello, Potter, Black" said Moody. "Come in, then."

Harry and I walked inside. I had never been inside Dumbledore's office before; it was a very beautiful, circular room, lined with pictures of previous headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts, all of whom were fast asleep, their chests rising and falling gently.

Cornelius Fudge was standing beside Dumbledore's desk, wearing his usual pinstriped cloak and holding his lime-green bowler hat.

"Harry!" said Fudge jovially, moving forward. "How are you?"

"Fine," Harry lied. Notice how he completely ignores me.

"We were just talking about the night when Mr. Crouch turned up on the grounds," said Fudge. "It was you who found him, was it not?"

"Yes," said Harry. "I didn't see Madame Maxime anywhere, though, and she'd have a job hiding, wouldn't she?"

Dumbledore smiled at Harry behind Fudge's back, his eyes twinkling.

"Yes, well," said Fudge, looking embarrassed, "we're about to go for a short walk on the grounds, Harry, if you'll excuse us… perhaps if you just go back to your class -"

"I wanted to talk to you. Professor," Harry said quickly, looking at Dumbledore, who gave him a swift, searching look.

"Wait here for me, Harry, you to Aurora" he said. "Our examination of the grounds will not take long."

They trooped out in silence past us and closed the door. After a minute or so, I heard the clunks of Moody's wooden leg growing fainter in the corridor below. I looked around.

"Hello, Fawkes," I heard Harry say.

I turned around and saw Harry stroking Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix, he was standing on his golden perch beside the door. The size of a swan, with magnificent scarlet-and-gold plumage, he swished his long tail and blinked benignly at Harry and me.

Harry and I sat down in the chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk. For several minutes, we sat and watched the old headmasters and headmistresses snoozing in their frames, thinking about what just happened, and keeping an eye on Harry. He seemed calmer now.

I looked up at the walls behind the desk. The patched and ragged Sorting Hat was standing on a shelf. A glass case next to it held a magnificent silver sword with large rubies set into the hilt. The sword had once belonged to Godric Gryffindor, founder of our House. I was gazing at it, remembering how Harry told me about what happened in the Chamber of Secrets, when I noticed a patch of silvery light, dancing and shimmering on the glass case. I looked around for the source of the light and saw a sliver of silver-white shining brightly from within a black cabinet behind him, whose door had not been closed properly. I saw Harry standing up in the corner of my eyes, walked across the office, and pulled open the cabinet door. I followed him.

A shallow stone basin lay there, with odd carvings around the edge: runes and symbols that I did not recognize. The silvery light was coming from the basin's contents, which were like nothing I had ever seen before. I could not tell whether the substance was liquid or gas. It was a bright, whitish silver, and it was moving ceaselessly; the surface of it became ruffled like water beneath wind, and then, like clouds, separated and swirled smoothly. It looked like light made liquid - or like wind made solid - I couldn't make up my mind.

Harry took out his wand out of the inside of his robes, cast a nervous look at me, looked back at the contents of the basin and prodded them.

The surface of the silvery stuff inside the basin began to swirl very fast. Harry and I bent closer, our heads right inside the cabinet. The silvery substance had become transparent; it looked like glass. I looked down into it expecting to see the stone bottom of the basin - and saw instead an enormous room below the surface of the mysterious substance, a room into which I seemed to be looking through a circular window in the ceiling.

The room was dimly lit; I thought it might even be underground, for there were no windows, merely torches in brackets such as the ones that illuminated the walls of Hogwarts. Lowering my face so that my nose was a mere inch away from the glassy substance, I saw that rows and rows of witches and wizards were seated around every wall on what seemed to be benches rising in levels.

An empty chair stood in the very center of the room. There was something about the chair that gave me an ominous feeling. Chains encircled the arms of it, as though its occupants were usually tied to it.

I jerked my head back, I recognized the place. It was a courtroom at the Ministry. I was about to pull Harry back up when his nose touched the strange substance and he vanished.

I stared open mouthed at the place where Harry just was.

"What the hell just happened!" I said to no one in particular. "Why do I have a boyfriend that always find trouble wherever he goes?" I said to myself, shaking my head.

I just stood there, thinking about what I should do. Dumbledore was somewhere on the grounds, other teachers were in there classes, so informing a teacher was out of the question. There was only one thing left to do. Follow that prat and give him a good beating for getting me in this situation. I walked closer to the basin, took a deep breath and put an finger in the liquid. No way am putting my nose in that thing.

Dumbledore's office gave an almighty lurch - I was thrown forward and pitched headfirst into the substance inside the basin –but my head did not hit the stone bottom. I was falling through something icycold and black; it was like being sucked into a dark whirlpool –

And suddenly, I found myself sitting on a bench at the end of the room inside the basin, a bench raised high above the others. I looked up at the high stone ceiling, expecting to see the circular window through which I had just been staring, but there was nothing there but dark, solid stone.

Breathing hard and fast I looked around me. Not one of the witches and wizards in the room (and there were at least two hundred of them) was looking at me. Not one of them seemed to have noticed that a fifteen-year-old girl had just dropped from the ceiling into their midst.

I turned to the person next to me on the bench and recognized Harry. I gave his head a hard slap. He turned around and looked at me with big eyes.

"What the hell were you thinking? Sticking your nose in things you shouldn't! and dragging me with you!" I yelled at him.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know this would happen. And I didn't drag you with me, you followed!" he said. "Where are we?"

"A courtroom in the Ministry, but I don't know how we got here." I said.

Then I saw who he was sitting next to. "Have you tried asking him?" I asked.

"Yeah, but he doesn't answer or even look at me. This happened to me once, back when I was in second year." Harry said, "I was sucked into a memory and it was exactly like this."

"How did you get out?" I asked him.

"When the memory was over, I was back in the real world," he said.

"So we have to stay here until this memory is over? We are going to be in so much trouble for this!" I said.

Before Harry could answer, we heard footsteps. The door in the corner of the dungeon opened and three people entered - or at least one man, flanked by two Dementors. My insides went cold.

The Dementors - tall, hooded creatures whose faces were concealed - were gliding slowly toward the chair in the center of the room, each grasping one of the man's arms with their dead and rotten-looking hands. The man between them looked as though he was about to faint, and I couldn't blame him… I knew the Dementors could not touch me inside a memory, but I remembered their power only too well. The watching crowd recoiled slightly as the Dementors placed the man in the chained chair and glided back out of the room. The door swung shut behind them.

I looked down at the man now sitting in the chair and saw that it was Karkaroff. Unlike Dumbledore, Karkaroff looked much younger; his hair and goatee were black. He was not dressed in sleek furs, but in thin and ragged robes. He was shaking. Even as I watched, the chains on the arms of the chair glowed suddenly gold and snaked their way up Karkaroff's arms, binding him there.

"Igor Karkaroff," said a curt voice to my left. I looked around and saw Mr. Crouch standing up in the middle of the bench beside him. Crouch's hair was dark, his face was much less lined, he looked fit and alert. "You have been brought from Azkaban to present evidence to the Ministry of Magic. You have given us to understand that you have important information for us."

Karkaroff straightened himself as best he could, tightly bound to the chair.

"I have, sir," he said, and although his voice was very scared, I could still hear the familiar unctuous note in it. "I wish to be of use to the Ministry. I wish to help. I - I know that the Ministry is trying to - to round up the last of the Dark Lords supporters. I am eager to assist in any way I can…"

There was a murmur around the benches. Some of the wizards and witches were surveying Karkaroff with interest, others with pronounced mistrust. Then I heard, quite distinctly, from Dumbledores other side, a familiar, growling voice saying, "Filth."

I leaned forward so that I could see past Dumbledore. Mad-Eye Moody was sitting there - except that there was a very noticeable difference in his appearance. He did not have his magical eye, but two normal ones. Both were looking down upon Karkaroff, and both were narrowed in intense dislike.

"Crouch is going to let him out," Moody breathed quietly to Dumbledore. "He's done a deal with him. Took me six months to track him down, and Crouch is going to let him go if he's got enough new names. Let's hear his information, I say, and throw him straight back to the Dementors."

"What! They are letting him go for some information when my father had to sit in Azkaban for 12 years. Oh when I get my hands on Crouch, I'm going to hex until nobody will recognize him!" I said through clenched teeth. This was so unfair!

Harry took my hand in his.

"Don't worry, we are going to prove his innocence and then he will be free," Harry said soothing.

Dumbledore made a small noise of dissent through his long, crooked nose. "Ah, I was forgetting… you don't like the Dementors, do you, Albus?" said Moody with a sardonic smile.

"No," said Dumbledore calmly, "I'm afraid I don't. I have long felt the Ministry is wrong to ally itself with such creatures."

"But for filth like this…" Moody said softly.

"You say you have names for us, Karkaroff," said Mr. Crouch. "Let us hear them, please."

"You must understand," said Karkaroff hurriedly, "that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named operated always in the greatest secrecy… He preferred that we - I mean to say, his supporters - and I regret now, very deeply, that I ever counted myself among them -"

"Get on with it," sneered Moody.

"- we never knew the names of every one of our fellows - He alone knew exactly who we all were -"

"Which was a wise move, wasn't it, as it prevented someone like you, Karkaroff, from turning all of them in," muttered Moody.

"Yet you say you have some names for us?" said Mr. Crouch.

"I - I do," said Karkaroff breathlessly. "And these were important supporters, mark you. People I saw with my own eyes doing his bidding. I give this information as a sign that I fully and totally renounce him, and am filled with a remorse so deep I can barely -"

"These names are?" said Mr. Crouch sharply.

Karkaroff drew a deep breath.

"There was Antonin Dolohov," he said. "I - I saw him torture countless Muggles and - and non-supporters of the Dark Lord."

"And helped him do it," murmured Moody.

"We have already apprehended Dolohov," said Crouch. "He was caught shortly after yourself."

"Indeed?" said Karkaroff, his eyes widening. "I - I am delighted to hear it!"

But he didn't look it. I could tell that this news had come as a real blow to him. One of his names was worthless.

"Any others?" said Crouch coldly.

"Why, yes… there was Rosier," said Karkaroff hurriedly. "Evan Rosier."

"Rosier is dead," said Crouch. "He was caught shortly after you were too. He preferred to fight rather than come quietly and was killed in the struggle."

"Took a bit of me with him, though," whispered Moody to my right. I looked around at him once more, and saw him indicating the large chunk out of his nose to Dumbledore.

"No - no more than Rosier deserved!" said Karkaroff, a real note of panic in his voice now.

I could see that he was starting to worry that none of his information would be of any use to the Ministry. Karkaroff's eyes darted toward the door in the corner, behind which the Dementors undoubtedly still stood, waiting.

"Any more?" said Crouch.

"Yes!" said Karkaroff. "There was Travers - he helped murder the McKinnons! Mulciber - he specialized in the Imperius Curse, forced countless people to do horrific things! Rookwood, who was a spy, and passed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named useful information from inside the Ministry itself!"

I could tell that, this time, Karkaroff had struck gold. The watching crowd was all murmuring together.

"Rookwood?" said Mr. Crouch, nodding to a witch sitting in front of him, who began scribbling upon her piece of parchment. "Augustus Rookwood of the Department of Mysteries?"

"The very same," said Karkaroff eagerly. "I believe he used a network of well placed wizards, both inside the Ministry and out, to collect information -"

"But Travers and Mulciber we have," said Mr. Crouch. "Very well, Karkaroff, if that is all, you will be returned to Azkaban while we decide -"

"Not yet!" cried Karkaroff, looking quite desperate. "Wait, I have more!"

I could see him sweating in the torchlight, his white skin contrasting strongly with the black of his hair and beard.

"Snape!" he shouted. "Severus Snape!"

"Snape has been cleared by this council," said Crouch disdainfully. "He has been vouched for by Albus Dumbledore."

"No!" shouted Karkaroff, straining at the chains that bound him to the chair. "I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater!"

Dumbledore had gotten to his feet.

"I have given evidence already on this matter," he said calmly. "Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater. However, he rejoined our side before Lord Voldemort's downfall and turned spy for us, at great personal risk. He is now no more a Death Eater than I am."

I turned to look at Mad-Eye Moody. He was wearing a look of deep skepticism behind Dumbledore's back.

"Very well, Karkaroff," Crouch said coldly, "you have been of assistance. I shall review your case. You will return to Azkaban in the meantime…"

Mr. Crouch's voice faded. I looked around; the dungeon was dissolving as though it were made of smoke; everything was fading; I could see only my and Harrys body - all else was swirling darkness…

And then, the dungeon returned. Harry and I were sitting in a different seat, still on the highest bench, but now to the left side of Mr. Crouch. The atmosphere seemed quite different: relaxed, even cheerful. The witches and wizards all around the walls were talking to one another, almost as though they were at some sort of sporting event. I noticed a witch halfway up the rows of benches opposite.

She had short blonde hair, was wearing magenta robes, and was sucking the end of an acid-green quill. It was, unmistakably, a younger Rita Skeeter.

I looked around; Dumbledore was sitting beside him again, wearing different robes. Mr. Crouch looked more tired and somehow fiercer, gaunter… I understood. It was a different memory, a different day… a different trial. The door in the corner opened, and Ludo Bagman walked into the room.

This was not, however, a Ludo Bagman gone to seed, but a Ludo Bagman who was clearly at the height of his Quidditch-playing fitness. His nose wasn't broken now; he was tall and lean and muscular. Bagman looked nervous as he sat down in the chained chair, but it did not bind him there as it had bound Karkaroff, and Bagman, perhaps taking heart from this, glanced around at the watching crowd, waved at a couple of them, and managed a small smile.

"Ludo Bagman, you have been brought here in front of the Council of Magical Law to answer charges relating to the activities of the Death Eaters," said Mr. Crouch. "We have heard the evidence against you, and are about to reach our verdict. Do you have anything to add to your testimony before we pronounce judgment?"

I couldn't believe his ears. Ludo Bagman, a Death Eater?

"Only," said Bagman, smiling awkwardly, "well - I know I've been a bit of an idiot -"

One or two wizards and witches in the surrounding seats smiled indulgently. Mr. Crouch did not appear to share their feelings. He was staring down at Ludo Bagman with an expression of the utmost severity and dislike.

"You never spoke a truer word, boy," someone muttered dryly to Dumbledore behind Harry and me. I looked around and saw Moody sitting there again. "If I didn't know he'd always been dim, I'd have said some of those Bludgers had permanently affected his brain…"

"Ludovic Bagman, you were caught passing information to Lord Voldemort's supporters," said Mr. Crouch. "For this, I suggest a term of imprisonment in Azkaban lasting no less than -"

But there was an angry outcry from the surrounding benches. Several of the witches and wizards around the walls stood up, shaking their heads, and even their fists, at Mr. Crouch.

"But I've told you, I had no idea!" Bagman called earnestly over the crowd's babble, his round blue eyes widening. "None at all! Old Rookwood was a friend of my dad's… never crossed my mind he was in with You-Know-Who! I thought I was collecting information for our side! And Rookwood kept talking about getting me a job in the Ministry later on… once my Quidditch days are over, you know… I mean, I can't keep getting hit by Bludgers for the rest of my life, can I?"

There were titters from the crowd.

"It will be put to the vote," said Mr. Crouch coldly. He turned to the right-hand side of the dungeon. "The jury will please raise their hands… those in favor of imprisonment…"

I looked toward the right-hand side of the dungeon. Not one person raised their hand. Many of the witches and wizards around the walls began to clap. One of the witches on the jury stood up.

"Yes?" barked Crouch.

"We'd just like to congratulate Mr. Bagman on his splendid performance for England in the Quidditch match against Turkey last Saturday," the witch said breathlessly.

Mr. Crouch looked furious. The dungeon was ringing with applause now. Bagman got to his feet and bowed, beaming.

"Despicable," Mr. Crouch spat at Dumbledore, sitting down as Bagman walked out of the dungeon. "Rookwood get him a job indeed… The day Ludo Bagman joins us will be a sad day indeed for the Ministry…"

And the dungeon dissolved again. When it had returned, I looked around. Harry, Dumbledore and I were still sitting beside Mr. Crouch, but the atmosphere could not have been more different. There was total silence, broken only by the dry sobs of a frail, wispy-looking witch in the seat next to Mr. Crouch. She was clutching a handkerchief to her mouth with trembling hands.

I looked up at Crouch and saw that he looked gaunter and grayer than ever before. A nerve was twitching in his temple.

"Bring them in," he said, and his voice echoed through the silent dungeon.

The door in the corner opened yet again. Six dementors entered this time, flanking a group of four people. I saw the people in the crowd turn to look up at Mr. Crouch. A few of them whispered to one another.

The Dementors placed each of the four people in the four chairs with chained arms that now stood on the dungeon floor. There was a thickset man who stared blankly up at Crouch; a thinner and more nervous-looking man, whose eyes were darting around the crowd; a woman with thick, shining dark hair and heavily hooded eyes, who was sitting in the chained chair as though it were a throne; and a boy in his late teens, who looked nothing short of petrified. He was shivering, his strawcolored hair all over his face, his freckled skin milk-white. The wispy little witch beside Crouch began to rock backward and forward in her seat whimpering into her handkerchief.

Crouch stood up. He looked down upon the four in front of him, and there was pure hatred in his face.

"You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law," he said clearly, "so that we may pass judgment on you, for a crime so heinous -"

"Father," said the boy with the straw-colored hair. "Father… please…"

"- that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court," said Crouch, speaking more loudly, drowning out his son's voice.

"We have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing an Auror - Frank Longbottom - and subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse, believing him to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named -"

I gasped. Longbottom, please not the father of Neville. I squeezed the hand of Harry hard and he pulled me closer to him, putting his arm around me.

"Father, I didn't!" shrieked the boy in chains below. "I didn't, I swear it. Father, don't send me back to the Dementors -"

"You are further accused," bellowed Mr. Crouch, "of using the Cruciatus Curse on Frank Longbottom's wife, when he would not give you information. You planned to restore He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to power, and to resume the lives of violence you presumably led while he was strong. I now ask the jury -"

Tears were forming in my eyes. These were Neville's parents.

"Mother!" screamed the boy below, and the wispy little witch beside Crouch began to sob, rocking backward and forward. "Mother, stop him. Mother, I didn't do it, it wasn't me!"

"I now ask the jury," shouted Mr. Crouch, "to raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!"

In unison, the witches and wizards along the right-hand side of the dungeon raised their hands. The crowd around the walls began to clap as it had for Bagman, their faces full of savage triumph. The boy began to scream. "No! Mother, no! I didn't do it, I didn't do it, I didn't know! Don't send me there, don't let him!"

The Dementors were gliding back into the room. The boys' three companions rose quietly from their seats; the woman with the heavy-lidded eyes looked up at Crouch and called, "The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban; we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us, he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!"

"That's Bellatrix!" I said, finally recognizing her. "That monster! That monster! Why do our family only have monsters?" Tears were forming in my eyes.

Harry pulled me closer and gave me a kiss on the forehead. "I'm here, It's going to be ok," he said.

The boy was trying to fight off the Dementors, even though I could see their cold, draining power starting to affect him. The crowd was jeering, some of them on their feet, as the woman swept out of the dungeon, and the boy continued to struggle.

"I'm your son!" he screamed up at Crouch. "I'm your son!"

"You are no son of mine!" bellowed Mr. Crouch, his eyes bulging suddenly. "I have no son!"

The wispy witch beside him gave a great gasp and slumped in her seat. She had fainted. Crouch appeared not to have noticed.

"Take them away!" Crouch roared at the Dementors, spit flying from his mouth. "Take them away, and may they rot there!"

"Father! Father, I wasn't involved! No! No! Father, please!"

"I think Harry, Aurora, it is time to return to my office," said a quiet voice next to us.

Harry and I started. We looked around. Then we looked on our other side.

There was an Albus Dumbledore sitting on our right, watching Crouch's son being dragged away by the Dementors - and there was an Albus Dumbledore on our left, looking right at us.

"Come," said the Dumbledore on his left, and he put a hand under Harry's and mine elbow. I felt myself rising into the air; the dungeon dissolved around me; for a moment, all was blackness, and then I felt as though I had done a slow-motion somersault, suddenly landing flat on my feet, in what seemed like the dazzling light of Dumbledore's sunlit office. The stone basin was shimmering in the cabinet in front of him, and Albus Dumbledore was standing beside me.

"Professor," Harry gasped, "I know we shouldn't've - I didn't mean - the cabinet door was sort of open and -"

"I quite understand," said Dumbledore. He lifted the basin, carried it over to his desk, placed it upon the polished top, and sat down in the chair behind it. He motioned for Harry and me to sit down opposite him.

We did so, staring at the stone basin. The contents had returned to their original, silvery-white state, swirling and rippling beneath his gaze.

"What is it?" Harry asked shakily.

"This? It is called a Pensieve," said Dumbledore. "I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind."

"At these times," said Dumbledore, indicating the stone basin, "I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form."

"You mean… that stuff's your thoughts?" Harry said, staring at the swirling white substance in the basin.

"Certainly," said Dumbledore. "Let me show you."

Dumbledore drew his wand out of the inside of his robes and placed the tip into his own silvery hair, near his temple. When he took the wand away, hair seemed to be clinging to it - but then I saw that it was in fact a glistening strand of the same strange silvery-white substance that filled the Pensieve. Dumbledore added this fresh thought to the basin, and I, astonished, saw Harry's face swimming around the surface of the bowl.

Dumbledore placed his long hands on either side of the Pensieve and swirled it, rather as a gold prospector would pan for fragments of gold… and I saw Harry's face change smoothly into Snape's, who opened his mouth and spoke to the ceiling, his voice echoing slightly.

"It's coming back… Karkaroff's too… stronger and clearer than ever…"

"A connection I could have made without assistance," Dumbledore sighed, "but never mind." He peered over the top of his half-moon spectacles at Harry, who was gaping at Snape's face, which was continuing to swirl around the bowl. "I was using the Pensieve when Mr. Fudge arrived for our meeting and put it away rather hastily. Undoubtedly I did not fasten the cabinet door properly. Naturally, it would have attracted your attention."

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled.

"Me to," I said.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Curiosity is not a sin," he said. "But we should exercise caution with our curiosity… yes, indeed…"

Frowning slightly, he prodded the thoughts within the basin with the tip of his wand. Instantly, a figure rose out of it, a plump, scowling girl of about sixteen, who began to revolve slowly, with her feet still in the basin. She took no notice whatsoever of Harry, Professor Dumbledore or me. When she spoke, her voice echoed as Snape's had done, as though it were coming from the depths of the stone basin.

"He put a hex on me, Professor Dumbledore, and I was only teasing him, sir, I only said I'd seen him kissing Florence behind the greenhouses last Thursday…"

"But why Bertha," said Dumbledore sadly, looking up at the now silently revolving girl, "why did you have to follow him in the first place?"

"Bertha?" Harry whispered, looking up at her. "Is that - was that Bertha Jorkins?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, prodding the thoughts in the basin again; Bertha sank back into them, and they became silvery and opaque once more. "That was Bertha as I remember her at school."

The silvery light from the Pensieve illuminated Dumbledore's face, and it struck me suddenly how very old he was looking. I knew, of course, that Dumbledore was getting on in years, but somehow I never really thought of Dumbledore as an old man.

"So, Harry, Aurora" said Dumbledore quietly. "Before you got lost in my thoughts, you wanted to tell me something."

"Yes," said Harry. "Professor - I was in Divination just now, and - er - I fell asleep."

He hesitated here, wondering if a reprimand was coming, but Dumbledore merely said, "Quite understandable. Continue."

"Well, I had a dream," said Harry. "A dream about Lord Voldemort. He was torturing Wormtail… you know who Wormtail-"

"I do know," said Dumbledore promptly. "Please continue."

"Voldemort got a letter from an owl. He said something like, Wormtail's blunder had been repaired. He said someone was dead. Then he said, Wormtail wouldn't be fed to the snake - there was a snake beside his chair. He said - he said he'd be feeding me to it, instead. Then he did the Cruciatus Curse on Wormtail - and my scar hurt," Harry said. "It woke me up, it hurt so badly."

Dumbledore merely looked at him. I took his hand and tried to show all my support, to let him know I'm there for him. He squeezed back.

"Er - that's all," said Harry.

"I see," said Dumbledore quietly. "I see. Now, has your scar hurt at any other time this year, excepting the time it woke you up over the summer?"

"No, I - how did you know it woke me up over the summer?" said Harry, astonished.

"You are not Sirius's only correspondent," said Dumbledore. "I have also been in contact with him ever since he left Hogwarts last year. It was I who suggested the mountainside cave as the safest place for him to stay."

Dumbledore got up and began walking up and down behind his desk. Every now and then, he placed his wand tip to his temple, removed another shining silver thought, and added it to the Pensieve. The thoughts inside began to swirl so fast that I couldn't make out anything clearly: It was merely a blur of color.

"Professor?" I said quietly, after a couple of minutes.

Dumbledore stopped pacing and looked at Harry and me.

"My apologies," he said quietly. He sat back down at his desk.

"D'you - d'you know why my scar's hurting me?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore looked very intently at Harry for a moment, and then said, "I have a theory, no more than that… It is my belief that your scar hurts both when Lord Voldemort is near you, and when he is feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred."

"But… why?"

"Because you and he are connected by the curse that failed," said Dumbledore. "That is no ordinary scar."

"So you think… that dream… did it really happen?"

"It is possible," said Dumbledore. "I would say - probable. Harry - did you see Voldemort?"

"No," said Harry. "Just the back of his chair. But - there wouldn't have been anything to see, would there? I mean, he hasn't got a body, has he? But… but then how could he have held the wand?" Harry said slowly.

"How indeed?" muttered Dumbledore. "How indeed…"

Neither Dumbledore nor Harry spoke for a while. Dumbledore was gazing across the room, and, every now and then, placing his wand tip to his temple and adding another shining silver thought to the seething mass within the Pensieve.

"Professor," Harry said at last, "do you think he's getting stronger?"

"Voldemort?" said Dumbledore, looking at Harry and me over the Pensieve. It was the characteristic, piercing look Dumbledore had given us on other occasions, and always made me feel as though Dumbledore were seeing right through me in a way that even Moody's magical eye could not. "Once again Harry, I can only give you my suspicions."

Dumbledore sighed again, and he looked older, and wearier, than ever. "The years of Voldemort's ascent to power," he said, "were marked with disappearances. Bertha Jorkins has vanished without a trace in the place where Voldemort was certainly known to be last. Mr. Crouch too has disappeared… within these very grounds. And there was a third disappearance, one which the Ministry, I regret to say, do not consider of any importance, for it concerns a Muggle. His name was Frank Bryce, he lived in the village where Voldemort's father grew up, and he has not been seen since last August. You see, I read the Muggle newspapers, unlike most of my Ministry friends."

Dumbledore looked very seriously at Harry and me.

"These disappearances seem to me to be linked. The Ministry disagrees - as you may have heard, while waiting outside my office."

Harry and I nodded. Silence fell between us again, Dumbledore extracting thoughts every now and then. I felt as though I ought to go, but my curiosity held me in my chair.

"Professor?" I said again.

"Yes, Aurora?" said Dumbledore.

"Er… could I ask you about… that courtroom I was in… in the Pensieve?"

"You could," said Dumbledore heavily. "I attended it many times, but some trials come back to me more clearly than others… particularly now…"

"You know - you know the trial you found us in? The one with Crouch's son? Well… were they talking about Neville's parents?"

Dumbledore gave me a very sharp look. "Has Neville never told you why he has been brought up by his grandmother?" he said.

I shook my head, wondering, as I did so, how I could have failed to ask Neville this, in almost two years of knowing him. I looked at Harry and saw that he didn't asked either.

"Yes, they were talking about Neville's parents," said Dumbledore. "His father, Frank, was an Auror just like Professor Moody. He and his wife were tortured for information about Voldemort's whereabouts after he lost his powers, as you heard."

"So they're dead?" I said quietly, tears forming in my eyes.

"No," said Dumbledore, his voice full of a bitterness I had never heard there before. "They are insane. They are both in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I believe Neville visits them, with his grandmother, during the holidays. They do not recognize him."

I sat there, horror-struck. Tears were falling from eyes now. I had never known… never, in two years, bothered to find out…

"The Longbottoms were very popular," said Dumbledore. "The attacks on them came after Voldemort's fall from power, just when everyone thought they were safe. Those attacks caused a wave of fury such as I have never known. The Ministry was under great pressure to catch those who had done it. Unfortunately, the Longbottoms' evidence was - given their condition - none too reliable."

"Then Mr. Crouch's son might not have been involved?" said Harry slowly. Dumbledore shook his head.

"As to that, I have no idea."

I sat in silence once more, watching the contents of the Pensieve swirl.

"Er," Harry said, "Mr. Bagman…"

"… has never been accused of any Dark activity since," said Dumbledore calmly.

"Right," said Harry. "And… er…"

But the Pensieve seemed to be asking his question for him.

Snape's face was swimming on the surface again. Dumbledore glanced down into it, and then up at Harry.

"No more has Professor Snape," he said.

"What made you think he'd really stopped supporting Voldemort, Professor?"

Dumbledore held Harrys gaze for a few seconds, and then said, "That, Harry, is a matter between Professor Snape and myself."

I knew that the interview was over; Dumbledore did not look angry, yet there was a finality in his tone that told Harry and I it was time to go. We stood up, and so did Dumbledore.

"Harry, Aurora" he said as we reached the door. "Please do not speak about Neville's parents to anybody else. He has the right to let people know, when he is ready."

"Yes, Professor," said Harry, turning to go.

"Ofcourse Professor," I said, whipping the tears from my face.

"And-"

Harry and I looked back. Dumbledore was standing over the Pensieve, his face lit from beneath by its silvery spots of light, looking older than ever. He stared at Harry for a moment, and then said, "Good luck with the third task."

**A/N: another chapter done. I have more time now since school is out. Year 4 is almost done!**


	27. The Third Task

**A/N: I don't own anything.**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 27: The Third Task.**

"Dumbledore reckons You-Know-Who's getting stronger again as well?" Ron whispered.

Everything Harry and I had seen in the Pensieve, nearly everything Dumbledore had told and shown us afterward, we had now shared with Ron and Hermione - and, of course, with dad, to whom Harry and I had sent an owl the moment we had left Dumbledore's office. Harry, Ron, Hermione and me sat up late in the common room once again that night, talking it all over until my mind was reeling, until I understood what Dumbledore had meant about a head becoming so full of thoughts that it would have been a relief to siphon them off.

Ron stared into the common room fire. I thought I saw Ron shiver slightly, even though the evening was warm.

"And he trusts Snape?" Ron said. "He really trusts Snape, even though he knows he was a Death Eater?"

"Yes," said Harry.

Hermione had not spoken for ten minutes. She was sitting with her forehead in her hands, staring at her knees. I thought she too looked as though she could have done with a Pensieve.

"Rita Skeeter," she muttered finally.

"How can you be worrying about her now?" said Ron, in utter disbelief.

"I'm not worrying about her," Hermione said to her knees. "I'm just thinking… remember what she said to me in the Three Broomsticks? 'I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl.' This is what she meant, isn't it? She reported his trial, she knew he'd passed information to the Death Eaters. And Winky too, remember… 'Ludo Bagman's a bad wizard.' Mr. Crouch would have been furious he got off, he would have talked about it at home."

"Yeah, but Bagman didn't pass information on purpose, did he?" Hermione shrugged.

"And Fudge reckons Madame Maxime attacked Crouch?" Ron said, turning back to Harry.

"Yeah," said Harry, "but he's only saying that because Crouch disappeared near the Beauxbatons carriage."

"We never thought of her, did we?" said Ron slowly. "Mind you, she's definitely got giant blood, and she doesn't want to admit it-"

"Of course she doesn't," said Hermione sharply, looking up. "Look what happened to Hagrid when Rita found out about his mother. Look at Fudge, jumping to conclusions about her, just because she's part giant. Who needs that sort of prejudice? I'd probably say I had big bones if I knew that's what I'd get for telling the truth."

Hermione looked at her watch. "We haven't done any practicing!" she said, looking shocked. "We were going to do the Impediment Curse! We'll have to really get down to it tomorrow! Come on. Harry, you need to get some sleep."

Hermione and I went upstairs to our dormitory. As I pulled on my pajamas, I thought about Neville. As promised, Harry and I didn't tell Hermione and Ron anything about his parents. I felt sorry for him. I know what is like to lose a parent. They are still alive but are unable to recognize Neville. At least I still got my dad even though I never get to see him.

Lying in the darkness, I felt a rush of anger and hate toward the people who had tortured Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom… I remembered the jeers of the crowd as Crouch's son and his companions had been dragged from the court by the Dementors… I understood how they had felt… Then I remembered the milk-white face of the screaming boy and realized with a jolt that he had died a year later…

Ron, Hermione and I were supposed to be studying for our exams, which would finish on the day of the third task, but we were putting most ofour efforts into helping Harry prepare.

"Don't worry about it," Hermione said shortly when Harry pointed this out to us and said he didn't mind practicing on his own for a while, "at least we'll get top marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts. We'd never have found out about all these hexes in class."

"Good training for when we're all Aurors," said Ron excitedly, attempting the Impediment Curse on a wasp that had buzzed into the room and making it stop dead in midair.

"Beside, your safety is more important than anything else. I don't want to see you get hurt. We are helping you and that's that!" I said looking him in the eye. He smiled at me and we continued with the Impediment Curse.

The mood in the castle as we entered June became excited and tense again. Everyone was looking forward to the third task, which would take place a week before the end of term. Harry was practicing hexes at every available moment. I felt more confident about this task than either of the others. Difficult and dangerous though it would undoubtedly be, Moody was right: Harry had managed to find his way past monstrous creatures and enchanted barriers before now, and this time he had some notice, some chance to prepare himself for what lay ahead.

Tired of walking in on Harry, Hermione, Ron and me all over the school, Professor McGonagall had given us permission to use the empty Transfiguration classroom at lunchtimes. Harry had soon mastered the Impediment Curse, a spell to slow down and obstruct attackers; the Reductor Curse, which would enable him to blast solid objects out of his way; and the Four-Point Spell, a useful discovery of Hermiones that would make his wand point due north, therefore enabling him to check whether he was going in the right direction within the maze.

He was still having trouble with the Shield Charm, though. This was supposed to cast a temporary, invisible wall around himself that deflected minor curses; I managed to shatter it with a well-placed Jelly-Legs Jinx, and Harry wobbled around the room for ten minutes afterward before Hermione had looked up the counterjinx. We both knew it, but it was so funny how he walked around the room.

"You're still doing really well, though," Hermione said encouragingly, looking down her list and crossing off those spells they had already learned. "Some of these are bound to come in handy."

"Come and look at this," said Ron, who was standing by the window. He was staring down onto the grounds. "What's Malfoy doing?"

Harry, Hermione and I went to see. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing in the shadow of a tree below. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be keeping a lookout; both were smirking. Malfoy was holding his hand up to his mouth and speaking into it.

"He looks like he's using a walkie-talkie," said Harry curiously.

"He can't be," said Hermione, "I've told you, those sorts of things don't work around Hogwarts. Come on, Harry," she added briskly, turning away from the window and moving back into the middle of the room, "let's try that Shield Charm again."

Dad was sending daily owls now. Like Hermione, he seemed to want to concentrate on getting Harry through the last task before we concerned themselves with anything else. He reminded Harry in every letter that whatever might be going on outside the walls of Hogwarts was not Harry's responsibility, nor was it within his power to influence it.

If Voldemort is really getting stronger again, he wrote, my priority is to ensure your safety. He cannot hope to lay hands on you while you are under Dumbledore's protection, but all the same, take no risks: Concentrate on getting through that maze safely, and then we can turn our attention to other matters.

My nerves mounted as June the twenty-fourth drew closer, but they were not as bad as those I had felt before the first and second tasks. For one thing, I was confident that, this time, Harry had done everything in his power to prepare for the task. For another, this was the final hurdle, and however well or badly he did, the tournament would at last be over, which would be an enormous relief.

Breakfast was a very noisy affair at the Gryffindor table on the morning of the third task. The post owls appeared, bringing Harry a good-luck card from dad. It was only a piece of parchment, folded over and bearing a muddy paw print on its front, but Harry appreciated it all the same. A screech owl arrived for Hermione, carrying her morning copy of the Daily Prophet as usual. She unfolded the paper, glanced at the front page, and spat out a mouthful of pumpkin juice all over it.

"What?" said Harry and Ron together, staring at her. "Nothing," said Hermione quickly, trying to shove the paper out of sight, but Ron grabbed it. He stared at the headline and said, "No way. Not today. That old cow."

"What?" said Harry. "Rita Skeeter again?"

"No," said Ron, and just like Hermione, he attempted to push the paper out of sight. I tried to grab it but he was fast.

"It's about me, isn't it?" said Harry.

"No," said Ron, in an entirely unconvincing tone. But before Harry or I could demand to see the paper Draco Malfoy shouted across the Great Hall from the Slytherin table.

"Hey, Potter! Potter! How's your head? You feeling all right? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?"

Malfoy was holding a copy of the Daily Prophet too. Slytherins up and down the table were sniggering, twisting in their seats to see Harry's reaction.

"Let me see it," Harry said to Ron. "Give it here."

Very reluctantly, Ron handed over the newspaper. Harry turned it over and I looked over his shoulder, we found ourself staring at his own picture, beneath the banner headline:

'HARRY POTTER DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS'

The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is unstable and possibly dangerous, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harry Potter's strange behavior, which casts doubts upon his suitability to compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts School.

Potter, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (relic of the curse with which You-Know-Who attempted to kill him). On Monday last, midway through a Divination lesson, your Daily Prophet reporter witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting too badly to continue studying. Another interesting fact, is that Miss Black, daughter of Sirius Black, was sitting next to him and 'helped' him. Is it her doing? Is it save for Harry Potter to be near her?

It is possible, say top experts at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, that Potters brain was affected by the attack inflicted upon him by You- Know-Who, and that his insistence that the scar is still hurting is an expression of his deep-seated confusion.

"He might even be pretending," said one specialist. "This could be a plea for attention."

The Daily Prophet, however, has unearthed worrying facts about Harry Potter that Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has carefully concealed from the wizarding public.

"Potter can speak Parseltongue," reveals Draco Malfoy, a Hogwarts fourth year. "There were a lot of attacks on students a couple of years ago, and most people thought Potter was behind them after they saw him lose his temper at a dueling club and set a snake on another boy. It was all hushed up, though. But he's made friends with werewolves and giants too. We think he'd do anything for a bit of power."

Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, has long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the most famous Parselmouth of our times is none other than You-Know-Who himself. A member of the Dark Force Defense League, who wished to remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any wizard who could speak Parseltongue "as worthy of investigation. Personally, I would be highly suspicious of anybody who could converse with snakes, as serpents are often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic, and are historically associated with evildoers." Similarly, "anyone who seeks out the company of such vicious creatures as werewolves and giants would appear to have a fondness for violence. He is even dating a person that can be dangerous."

Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether a boy such as this should be allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some fear that Potter might resort to the Dark Arts in his desperation to win the tournament, the third task of which takes place this evening. Is miss Black teaching him the Dark Arts?

"Gone off me a bit, hasn't she?" said Harry lightly, folding up the paper.

"I can't believe it! She really has gone too far this time! Saying it is my fault that your scar is hurting, that I'm teaching you the Dark Arts!" I said fuming.

Harry put his arm around me and pulled me close. He gave me a kiss to my temple.

"We know the truth, Aurora, that's all that matter!" he said. I calmed down in his arms. He's right.

Over at the Slytherin table, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were laughing at Harry, tapping their heads with their fingers, pulling grotesquely mad faces, and waggling their tongues like snakes. Real mature.

"How did she know your scar hurt in Divination?" Ron said. "There's no way she was there, there's no way she could've heard -"

"The window was open," said Harry. "I opened it to breathe."

"You were at the top of North Tower!" Hermione said. "Your voice couldn't have carried all the way down to the grounds!"

"And how did she know I was sitting next to you?" I asked.

"Well, you're the one who's supposed to be researching magical methods of bugging!" said Harry to Hermione. "You tell me how she did it!"

"I've been trying!" said Hermione. "But I… but…"

An odd, dreamy expression suddenly came over Hermione's face. She slowly raised a hand and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Are you all right?" said Ron, frowning at her.

"Yes," said Hermione breathlessly. She ran her fingers through her hair again, and then held her hand up to her mouth, as though speaking into an invisible walkie-talkie. Harry and Ron stared at each other.

"I've had an idea," Hermione said, gazing into space. "I think I know… because then no one would be able to see… even Moody… and she'd have been able to get onto the window ledge… but she's not allowed… she's definitely not allowed… I think we've got her! Just give me two seconds in the library - just to make sure!"

With that, Hermione seized her school bag and dashed out of the Great Hall.

"Oy!" Ron called after her. "We've got our History of Magic exam in ten minutes! Blimey," he said, turning back to Harry and me, "she must really hate that Skeeter woman to risk missing the start of an exam. What're you going to do in Binns's class – read again?"

Exempt from the end-of-term tests as a Triwizard champion, Harry had been sitting in the back of every exam class so far, looking up fresh hexes for the third task.

"S'pose so," Harry said to Ron; but just then. Professor McGonagall came walking alongside the Gryffindor table toward us.

"Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast," she said.

"But the task's not till tonight!" said Harry, accidentally spilling scrambled eggs down his front, afraid he had mistaken the time.

"I'm aware of that, Potter," she said. "The champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them." She moved away. Harry gaped after her.

"She doesn't expect the Dursleys to turn up, does she?" he asked us blankly.

"Dunno," said Ron.

"I don't think so, they wouldn't want to come here." I said.

"Harry, we'd better hurry, were going to be late for Binns. See you later." Ron said.

Ron and I stood up and I gave Harry a kiss. He wished me good luck and I walked away with Ron. We were just in time and Hermione slipped in just as the bell ringed.

Where were you, I mouthed to her. I tell you later, she mouthed back and she gave me a big smile. We got our exams and started. History of Magic is fascinating but Binns is just so boring. I filled in the exam. It was hard but I should pass this.

We finished and we returned to the Great Hall for lunch. I looked for Harry and saw him sitting at the Gryffindor table.

"Mum - Bill!" said Ron, looking stunned, as we joined the Gryffindor table. "What're you doing here?"

I took my seat next to Harry and gave him a quick kiss.

"Come to watch Harry in the last task!" said Mrs. Weasley brightly. "I must say, it makes a lovely change, not having to cook. How was your exam?"

Mrs. Weasley looked everywhere but me and Bill looked at me with a calculated look. What's going on? Do they believe the prophet?

"Oh… okay," said Ron. "Couldn't remember all the goblin rebels' names, so I invented a few. It's all right," he said, helping himself to a Cornish pasty, while Mrs. Weasley looked stern, "they're all called stuff like Bodrod the Bearded and Urg the Unclean; it wasn't hard."

Fred, George, and Ginny came to sit next to us too, and I could feel that Harry was having a good time; I had forgotten to worry about that evening's task, and not until Hermione turned up, halfway through lunch, did I remember that she had had a brainwave about Rita Skeeter.

"Are you going to tell us -?"

Hermione shook her head warningly and glanced at Mrs. Weasley.

"Hello, Hermione," said Mrs. Weasley, much more stiffly than usual.

"Hello," said Hermione, her smile faltering at the cold expression on Mrs. Weasley's face.

Harry looked between them, then said, "Mrs. Weasley, you didn't believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in Witch Weekly, did you? Because Hermione's not my girlfriend. Aurora is. Everything they told is a lie!"

"Oh!" said Mrs. Weasley "No - of course I didn't!"

But she became considerably warmer toward Hermione and me after that. After lunch Harry went with Bill and Mrs. Weasley to walk around the grounds. Hermione, Ron and I went back to the common room to unwind and have small party that exams are over.

We returned to the great Hall for the evening feast and were reunited with the others. Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge had joined the staff table now. Bagman looked quite cheerful, but Cornelius Fudge, who was sitting next to Madame Maxime, looked stern and was not talking. Madame Maxime was concentrating on her plate, and I thought her eyes looked red. Hagrid kept glancing along the table at her.

There were more courses than usual, but Harry didn't eat much. As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."

Harry got up. I got up to and hugged him real close. I wished him good luck and gave him a long kiss. The Gryffindors all along the table were applauding him; the Weasleys and Hermione all wished him good luck, and he headed off out of the Great Hall with Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor.

I stared after him, worrying for him. I started to have a feeling that something was wrong. Hermione took my hand and told me everything was going to be alright. She pulled me along and we made our way to the Quidditch field. We took our seat and waited. The four champions came out and walked away in different directions, to station themselves around the maze.

Harry waved at us and we waved back, I even blown him a kiss.

Bagman now pointed his wand at his throat, muttered, "Sonorus," and his magically magnified voice echoed into the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each - Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!" The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. "In second place, with eighty points - Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!" More applause. "And in third place – Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!"

"So… on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!" said Bagman. "Three - two - one -"

He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Harry and Cedric hurried forward into the maze. They were gone. All we can do now is wait and hope. A second whistle and Krum disappeared in the maze. A third one and Fleur was gone.

All the champions were in the maze now. Now the waiting could begin. It was terrible. That feeling that something was wrong was getting stronger and stronger. I was so nervous, my foot kept tapping and a was biting my fingernails. Hermione took my hand in hers and tried to calm me.

After an hour we saw Hagrid coming back, caring Fleur in his arms. Everybody held his breath. She was examined and she woke up. She looked ok. One down, three to go. A little later we saw red sparks in the sky. Oh please don't let it be Harry or Cedric.

Moody came back with Krum floating on front of him. This means that it's only Harry and Cedric now. Hogwarts wins!

Time passed by and nothing happened. Dumbledore and other professors were huddled together around Krum and Fleur. Something was going on. And my feeling was getting worse.

"Something's wrong," I whispered.

"What," Hermione asked. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know, I just feel that something is wrong. I just don't know what!" I said, shifting in my seat.

Hermione looked at me worried. Then I saw Snape tensing and walking towards Dumbledore. He pulled him apart and started speaking very fast. I couldn't see what they were talking about but I could tell that something was wrong. I couldn't handle it anymore and stood up.

"What are you doing," Hermione asked.

"I need to speak to Dumbledore!" I said and I hurried down the stairs.

"Professor," I said when I reached them, "I need to speak with you, It's urgent!"

"What is it, miss Black?"

"Something's wrong with Harry and Cedric. I don't know what and I don't know how I know, I just feel it. Something is not right and I'm scared that something had happened to them." I said.

Dumbledore gave a look to Snape and looked back at me.

"Miss Black, why don't you…"

But he didn't finished that sentence because at that moment there was a flash behind him.

**A/N: it's a short chapter I know, sorry. Sorry it took so long to. Almost finished with year 4. I hope to finish it before the year is over. Hope you enjoyed it. Let me know!**


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